Present Tense
by weirdprince
Summary: The Manhattan clan struggles without Goliath, as he travels on the World Tour. Somehow, the stream of time is moving too quickly, events happening before they should - pulling apart his already fractured clan. When Goliath returns home, he finds his deepest fears becoming horribly real. Was the awful possible future he witnessed just a dream - or a prophecy?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

This AU takes place during and directly after the World Tour. It's filled to the brim with my personal headcanons - like the poly trio, neurodivergent Brooklyn/Lex/Broadway, implied romance between other characters (which I tried to keep lowkey but lbh, David and Owen have been doing it since day one), among other things.

This story found life in late night conversations through IM's, initially just as sad headcanons and sappy "what-if's" back and forth among friends with far too many feelings until it started to grow all on its own. Before I knew it, I had thousands of words and multiple chapters, questions and their answers, motives and secrets and so much delicious angst I didn't even know what to do with myself - except post it all here for a fandom twenty years old but still very much alive. This fic would not have even gotten its feet off the ground if it weren't for my lovething, RoAnna Sylver and our good friend, Tobias, who both provided the real essence of this story, and I dedicate it entirely to them. What a bunch of gay baby nerds.

I haven't had this much fun writing something in years and I'm excited to share it with you.

Trigger Warnings for this chapter: none.

 **Special thanks to my friend, tumblr user cydare, for making the beautiful cover art for this story! It means so much to me and it's gorgeous and ahhhh thank you ;A;**

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Chapter One

It was day sixty and it was raining.

Brooklyn leaned in the threshold of the clocktower doorway and let fat raindrops pelt against his bare arms, the tip of his beak, and his taloned feet. The water felt cool and the wind whistled through old rock with the promise of a coming storm. From where he stood he could hear the distant ocean begin to churn with the pull of the moon and thunder brewed deep within the murky clouds. He even felt a distinct charge in the air from the lightning crackling to life in the sky; a thousand years ago there had not been a word for such a sensation, but now he described it as electric.

The heavy, loud groan of the short hand on the clock shifting gears to point skyward at midnight reverberated through his home and although Brooklyn had heard it a hundred thousand times, this time he jumped.

Day sixty-one.

"Aye, close the door, son. Even if they arrived in Manhattan today, there's no way they could glide up here in this mess."

Brooklyn turned over his shoulder to look at his elder who sat hunched, elbows on knees, in his recliner. Both eyes, one white and one gold, were turned to the television but he was not watching it.

"Besides," Hudson continued, sitting back slowly with a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body and said nothing of relaxation. "It be colder than a witch's tit in here."

The beginnings of a grin cracked along the side of Brooklyn's beak but it sputtered to death before it had a chance to fully thrive. He pulled the door closed with a hollow sound, silencing only the wind outside. The thunder could be heard even over the grinding wheels and gears of the clock.

Usually Brooklyn hardly noticed that they lived inside a massive machine that kept time. The ticking and the motors had all been but pleasant white noise when Lexington fixed it shortly after the clan first made it their home and fortress. While it was no castle, Brooklyn had come to like it there.

Sixty-one days ago, perhaps.

Now, the eerie passage of time seemed to be the only thing Brooklyn was aware of. He felt every minute, every hour, every sunrise and sunset that fell right through the cracks in his fingers, because it was one more minute, hour, sunrise and sunset without Goliath, Elisa, and Bronx, and the clocktower did nothing but remind him of that every goddamn day. All sixty-one of them.

Beak grinding, Brooklyn crossed the room to stand behind Hudson, staring at the flashing images on the television but, like the older gargoyle, he saw none of it. His mind felt barely attached to the rest of him, as if he were connected by only a single string, like it floated above his body like a balloon. His thoughts were water; he could not hold onto them and they disappeared somewhere dark and deep as if he were a well.

"Soon, lad." Hudson said. He still faced forward and Brooklyn knew why; the last time they had tried to have this conversation face to face, they both began to choke with tears. "Soon."

What Brooklyn wanted to say was 'you don't sound very confident', what he wanted to say was 'stop saying that', what he wanted to say was 'I miss them so much I can hardly catch my breath sometimes' but what he actually said was "Yeah," and then he placed a gentle hand on Hudson's shoulder before leaving him alone, because Hudson was putting a hand over his eyes and bowing his head and Brooklyn knew exactly what that meant.

Not every day since their disappearance was like this. Sometimes Brooklyn, Broadway, Lexington, and Hudson managed to have a few laughs while on patrol. They did as they had before part of the clan went missing; they watched the streets from the shadows and took out the robbers and the gangs, they kept a watchful eye on any movement from Xanatos' tower, and there seemed to be a degree of peace at times in the routine, at the very least. As long as they all kept busy, there wasn't a whole lot of time to feel their absence.

Sometimes they sat in relatively comfortable silence around the television and got lost in some old movie they barely understood. More than once, one of the four would start saying "Elisa, what does that mean?" to some reference or human idiom they hadn't quite grasped yet like they always used to and the illusion that everything was okay would shatter. Or they'd wake up in the evening from their stone sleep and immediately turn toward the the center pillar as they naturally would only to find Goliath's resting place empty, just like the night before. Sometimes, they could shake off these momentary lapses and go on pretending that the clan wasn't fractured.

Other times, days like this one, it took all they had not to crumble into stone with the rest of their skin in the evening.

Elisa had explained to Brooklyn once that human families function differently; when children are old enough to take care of themselves, they leave the home to live somewhere else. When elders are too old to to take care of themselves, they leave their home to live in a shared place with other elders until they died. Brooklyn had been appalled the first time he learned of that strange custom and he still was. Why break apart a family for any reason at all? His people did not operate that way; the bonds of gargoyle clans are lifelong. Only death separated those in the clan. Members didn't leave when they were old enough to fend for themselves or too old to do it alone anymore. The very essence of a clan was its strength in unity. He had always thought that humans could learn from that.

This is how he knew that Goliath would not just leave - not only did it go against everything that made a gargoyle a gargoyle, but it went against everything that made Goliath, Goliath. Elisa, too. Hell, even Bronx would know it in his heart to come back.

Which only left two explanations and neither of them were pleasant: they were trapped and being held against their will somewhere by someone or something, or -

Brooklyn's feet caught on the rough stone of the hallway. One curled fist pressed against the wall. The jagged surface bit into his knuckles. Above and around him, the sound of time passing. He forced himself to finish the thought, as painful as it was.

Or, he thought with a long sigh that made his chest ache, they were dead.

Brooklyn's breath hissed through the tip of his beak until he could finally stand straight again. He walked a little further down the hallway before using his shoulder to push open the door to Lexington's room. Elisa called it the tinkering room, since Lex liked to build things there. Brooklyn frowned, both at the memory and at the room - it was empty. He stared blankly at the half finished inventions, the disassembled clocks and toys and radios and computers, most of which had laid untouched since Goliath and the others disappeared. Brooklyn wasn't sure why he thought Lexington would suddenly be among them again, submerged in his tools, muttering to himself, happily lost in creation.

Maybe because Brooklyn longed to see him and Broadway and Hudson happy again, if just for a few minutes. Maybe because Brooklyn was a nostalgic fool.

He left the room and continued down the hallway, checking other doors as he went (the room where Brooklyn kept the stereo system Elisa had gotten him for Christmas that he hadn't used in two months, the deserted kitchen, the bathroom, the closet where Brooklyn had found Broadway exactly two weeks after Goliath and the others went missing curled up in a ball on the floor crying so hard he vomited) but they were all empty. The only room left was the library.

Brooklyn had not stepped foot in the library since he had searched for Goliath there the very first evening of their disappearance. Even being just outside the door felt strange to Brooklyn, like he was stepping on someone's grave. His heart seized; he put a hand over it while the other curled around the doorknob only to freeze there like the sun had leaked over the horizon hours too early. He knew Lexington and Broadway had to be in there and for a fleeting moment that angered him. There was no reason to be, he knew, because the library was not some sacred space that Goliath would not want disturbed. If anything he would be relieved that they would be among his books, among knowledge and stories, because Goliath loved to share that with them whenever he could. He knew that Goliath would want them to find comfort there.

It took Brooklyn several seconds to notice he was crushing the door knob in his fist. He relaxed his grip but did not let go. Goliath was becoming a ghost in his mind; dead and gone, someone he could not save. It made him sick to his stomach to realize that some part of him wanted to replace the torturous feeling of not knowing what happened to Goliath and Elisa and Bronx with mourning them as dead. That seemed easier, somehow. He had been able to grieve the clan he lost a thousand years ago precisely because he knew what happened to them. Stone could not be put back together. But this, the unknown, the what-ifs, the maybes and somedays and soons, they all crawled into the pockets of his heart and expanded them until the muscles stretched and tore.

Was it horrible of him to wish that instead of daydreams of possible futures, they had bodies to bury?

He pushed the door open if just to enter a new channel for his thoughts. The smell of dust and old books met his nose, two heads turning in his direction met his eyes. Broadway on his right, Lexington on his left, both with books in their hands. Brooklyn didn't stare at them for long, however, because the mess on the floor demanded his attention and - well, it confused the hell out of him.

Books. Books everywhere. Books shaken open and dumped out. Rows of empty shelves had purged themselves all over the floor, in piles that were nearly as tall as Lexington in height. Dozens of pages had slipped free from their spines and peppered the ground with text. Select books were lined cover to cover on a nearby table, others still mounted on the stool Goliath often read on. Broadway had one clamped between his teeth and Lexington had another pinched between his chin and his shoulder.

"What in the hell-?" Brooklyn's eyes jumped between the two gargoyles and the mountain of books - Goliath's books - blanketing the floor.

Broadway said something around the book in his mouth and when Brooklyn only stared back at him with even more confusion than he entered the room with, he pulled it out and dropped it to the floor with a loud clap. "Clues," he repeated, very matter-of-fact, and turned back to the shelf he was currently desecrating.

"We've turned over every stone in the clocktower looking for evidence of where they went," Lexington piped up from the other side of the room. He thumbed through the pages of the book in his hand, eyes flicking across the text at an impossible speed, before he tossed the book over his shoulder and replaced it with the one he held with his chin. "But we never thought to look through the books. It's the perfect place to hide clues!" Lex grinned at Brooklyn, all but bouncing on the tips of his feet with excitement. He weaved through the maze of piles to the table in the center of the room and gestured for Brooklyn to follow. He did, slowly, mouth slightly open in disbelief (that felt more like horror) and stared down at the random assortment of titles that faced him.

"See?" Lexington tapped a few of the covers with the tip of his taloned finger. "These were just some that were sticking out more than the others on the shelves. They didn't make a whole lot of sense at first, not until we put them together."

"Like these two," Broadway said as he came to Lexington's side. He placed each hand on a book and turned them around so their covers were facing the correct way for Brooklyn to read. One was _Where The Red Fern Grows_ , the other _A Tale of Two Cities_. "These were just a few books apart on the shelf and both of them were pulled out, just a little bit." Broadway looked at Lexington and the two grinned at each other like they were the world's greatest detectives solving an age old mystery. "Wasn't sure what a fern was so we looked it up in the dictionary and we found a page folded down and guess what word was on that page? Tales. So these have to be connected," he said with a confident nod.

"And next to the dictionary? This book." Lexington leaned across the table and slapped his hand on a big blue cover. The title, in gold lettering, read _Gone With The Wind_. "I don't know, that just seemed significant for some reason, and then right below _that_ -"

Brooklyn's mouth slowly closed the more Lexington and Broadway explained their apparent theory with all of the hidden clues in Goliath's books until his jaw ached with how tightly he was holding it shut. Their voices blended together into incomprehensible noise of rushed, almost panicked inflection, sliding books in and out of his view, opening and closing them, pointing to words and sentences and titles over and over again and repeating "Doesn't this make sense?" to one another every few minutes and it seemed like they were trying to convince themselves more than Brooklyn.

He stopped looking at the books. He watched the animated faces of his brothers. There was not a shred of sadness in them. No mourning, no confusion, only hope. Beautiful, nonsensical hope. Irrational hope. A hope burning so fiercely it lit their entire bodies, made them glow and move with excitement he hadn't seen in them in exactly sixty-one days. His heart ached with sorrow because he could not join them in their delusion and it ached with love because a desperate part of him wanted to.

Brooklyn closed his eyes briefly and ducked his head. Gargoyles did not pray to gods like humans sometimes did, but he sent something akin to a prayer out into the universe to wherever Goliath might be. He asked for guidance. He asked for a sliver of his strength.

"Guys," Brooklyn said, his voice soft and lost under the now loud and enthusiastic conversation between Broadway and Lexington. They were going on as if he wasn't there anymore, shuffling through pages and shifting books back and forth, searching for clues where there were none. "You guys," he said again, this time a little louder, but they didn't so much as glance at him. They were lost in their nonexistent clues, in their far fetched hope, a fairy tale in which Goliath and Elisa and Bronx were coming home if they could only find them.

Brooklyn's eyes and fists clenched shut; he brought the latter down on the edge of the table hard enough to make the legs rattle against the floor with a forceful bang. "Enough!" He barked, the wings at his back flexing wide with the sudden shout, making him appear much bigger and much stronger than he felt.

The seconds that followed were quiet but not silent; all around them, the sound of time passing. Distant ticking, whirring, grinding. Outside, the storm.

Life was moving on and it didn't give a damn about their grief.

His eyes peeled open to stare hard at the now silent and slightly cowering pair of gargoyles across from him. Even Broadway seemed small, tucked in to Lexington's side. Brooklyn shifted his eyes between them slowly, thoughtfully, much like Goliath had when they were but hatchlings and he was trying to teach them something very important. He did not feel qualified to stand in Goliath's place. He should be standing on the other side of the table beside his brothers, wide eyed, scared, looking for direction.

For the hundredth time in sixty-one days, he wished he hadn't been named second, and, at the same time, for the first time, he was glad he had, because it meant neither of his brothers had to fight the battle he was fighting. An awful heaviness settled on his bones and he wondered if Goliath had always felt like he had to shoulder the world.

Brooklyn straightened his spine and flattened his wings. When he pulled his fists away from the table he saw that the wood had splintered from the force.

"There will be no more of this," Brooklyn said, his voice so deep and so serious that it startled him. It did not show on his face; he kept his expression as even as he could, just managing to keep his shaking contained to his fists.

"But the clues, they're in the books -" Lexington began, only to have his mouth click shut at the harsh look Brooklyn gave him from across the table.

"There are no clues." He looked each of his brothers in the eye. "I know you want to believe that. I want to believe it, too. But it's not … healthy to obsess like this."

A muscle flickered in Broadway's cheek. "What do you expect us to do? Stand around and wait and - and do nothing?" His chest swelled until he looked twice his size, until Lexington shrank away from him. He snatched a book from the table and threw it with an exasperated grunt. It was but a small flick of the wrist on Broadway's part but he had never truly grasped the extent of his own strength and Brooklyn could hear the wind whistle in his ear as the book sailed past him. It cracked hard against the door. "What exactly are you doing to find them, huh?!" He was shouting now, his large voice filling the library all the way to the ceiling, drowning out the sound of the clock. "At least we're doing something, at least we're not just staring out the door hoping they'll just appear out of thin air-!"

"Broadway." Lexington slipped to Broadway's side again and Brooklyn was relieved he was the one to speak first because seeing Broadway explode like that spoke against his gentle nature and Brooklyn couldn't wrap his mind around the people they were becoming in Goliath's absence. "Breathe, Broadway." A small green hand wrapped around Broadway's thick wrist, lowered it, held it to his chest. Broadway turned his eyes as if in a daze away from Brooklyn, softening when he met Lexington's. He deflated like a balloon and swayed on his feet; his free hand moved to the table and flattened against the surface to keep himself up. Brooklyn watched with a tight throat as Lexington's thumb smoothed across the back of Broadway's trembling hand back and forth. Memories aged one thousand years burned into his corneas; Goliath's hand cupping the globe of Lexington's scraped head after he was tangled in a tree when the trio were first learning to glide, those same hands checking Broadway's limbs for broken bones after wild dogs had dragged him into a brawl. That same careful touch on Brooklyn himself when he was barely a hatchling waddling after Goliath at the sound of battle. Goliath had scooped him up from under his arms with a mighty laugh and held him against his hip. "Someday you'll fight, too, little one," he had said, his smile wide. "When you're ready."

Brooklyn swallowed hard. He did not feel ready. He wondered if Goliath ever had, or if he just did what he knew had to be done.

Nobody spoke for several long minutes. Above and all around them, the sound of time passing. Goliath did not burst heroically through the door just at that moment. He did not bring the three of them to his chest and apologize for what they had gone through. He did not remove the burden of leadership from Brooklyn's shoulders. Nothing changed. Everything was still awful and everything on the horizon looked awful if he did not do something to save what little remained of his clan. He stared at the books littered across the floor, piled halfway up the shelves, and strewn on the table.

Their salvation was not hidden in these old books.

Brooklyn took a deep breath and walked slowly around the table. He had barely opened his arms before Lexington slammed into them, face pressed flush to his chest and wings wrapped completely around him. Brooklyn turned his beak to Lexington's temple, shushing him softly as the smaller gargoyle began to shake with sobs. "I miss them," Lexington cried, his tears hot against Brooklyn's skin, and Brooklyn nodded and screwed his eyes shut because, god, he missed them too. And then, all around them, Broadway's warmth as his arms became protective walls. He tucked Brooklyn under his chin and tried to say he was sorry but Brooklyn would not allow it; there was nothing to be forgive, nothing to be sorry for.

"I love them," Brooklyn said, and Lexington shook so hard against him he was afraid he might break apart. "I am not giving up. But we cannot - we _cannot_ get consumed by this. There will be nothing left of us if we do." Brooklyn's next breath hitched in his throat. Broadway tightened his grip around him. "And I love you, too. And you and Hudson are here. I can't save Goliath and Elisa and Bronx right now, but I can save you two because you're right here with me. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," he said, and Lexington whimpered against him, and Broadway hid his face in Brooklyn's hair. "So please, please don't go where I can't reach you. Okay?"

They promised. They swore.

The three could have stayed tangled in each until morning. It would have been easy - breathing in sync with one another, feeling nothing but their own warm skin. They could close their eyes and float in the space between awake and asleep until they all turned to stone. A part of him wanted to find a spell that would only wake them when Goliath and Elisa and Bronx returned, even if it took another thousand years.

The bigger part of him, the part of him that Goliath had nurtured and loved and chosen as his second, refused. He kissed Lexington's head and Broadway's neck. He was not alone, like Goliath had been. He had his rookery brothers. They had Hudson. Time was moving them forward whether they liked it or not and they could either fight against the current or try to ride it out like they always had. He knew that Goliath, wherever he was, wanted that. When Brooklyn closed his eyes, he could almost feel those strong arms holding him up, could almost see his smile beaming back at him. Someday was today. Someday was now.

When Lexington stopped crying, when Broadway could stand on his own two feet without their support, the three separated. Brooklyn cupped Lexington's face in his hands and used his thumbs to dry the tears away. He rubbed Broadway's back until the shaking ceased. And then they turned back to the books, to Goliath's precious books. They did not search for clues. They didn't even speak. They put the books away in silence and it felt almost like what Elisa had said was a procession before a funeral. He had seen one once on the streets of Manhattan. One final journey with the dead before lying them to rest; this chapter had to close, he knew, or they would be stuck on the same page forever. He watched Lexington and Broadway work in silence, their faces as troubled as the storm outside. He thought of Hudson crying alone in front of the television.

The clan was smaller now but it was still the same one and he would not be responsible for it breaking into such small pieces that it could not be put back together again.

When the piles of books had finally been put away, when the loose pages on the floor were swept up, Brooklyn took each of his brothers by the shoulder and steered them out of the library. They joined Hudson in the main room where he acted as if he had not been crying the entire time the trio was gone. Brooklyn stood beside him and held his hand to let him know that it was okay.

Broadway and Lexington made a meal for the four of them in the kitchen for the first time in weeks. Brooklyn stayed with Hudson while they were away and reassured him that one way or another, they would make it through this. It was a conversation he should have had with his elder a long time ago, but he had not felt ready until now. Hudson even smiled at his leader and clapped a hand on Brooklyn's shoulder and it was the first time he had looked hopeful in sixty-one days. When the food was ready they ate around the television, watching some old movie they didn't completely understand. During commercials, Lexington explained the special effects. Broadway told jokes. For a few hours they were just a small family enjoying each others company, and Brooklyn knew that moving forward was not a matter of forgetting who was missing, but adjusting to the empty spaces they left behind as best they could.

Morning crawled up on them all too quickly; Lexington was curled in Brooklyn's lap nearly dozing, much like he had to Goliath when he was a hatchling. Broadway's head rested on Hudson's knee. Brooklyn stared at the three of them and could not think of a time when he had loved them more. He wondered if Goliath had loved them the most when times were hard and for a few minutes felt honored that he was able to feel love the same way Goliath did.

The silence that enveloped them as they moved outside to take their perches was not an empty, sad one. It was determined. Rain was still falling when they came onto the balcony but the storm had mostly passed. Brooklyn could see the dark clouds drifting away across the island. The horizon was soft with the coming morning.

Without a word, and with the eyes of his clan on him, Brooklyn stepped onto the center pillar and spread his wings as far as they would go, as if daring the very sun to challenge his position as second, as leader. Behind them, the sound of time passing. In front of them, the unknown.

The sun came and it hardened his flesh and heart to stone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: Guns, violence, blood.

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Chapter Two

Day eighty-four came with gunfire.

Brooklyn lowered the newspaper in his hands and twisted his neck toward the sound. If he squinted he could make out what looked like smoke in the distance, though it was hard to tell in the dark, followed shortly by faint car alarms. He glanced at the hands of the clocktower. It wasn't even eleven yet.

He sighed, used his wrist to prop himself up, and swung his legs so that he was sitting straight, both legs dangling from the edge of the balcony. The newspaper was quickly and quietly fashioned into an airplane on his lap, a trick Elisa had taught him some time ago that he had perfected over the months when he found himself bored trying to read the whole thing. Mostly he read them for the comics (which he almost never understood but enjoyed the strange little drawings anyway) but he also kept an eye on the front page and the rest of the major articles. Humans made a big deal about many things, mostly sports, but also the strange and unusual. If there were any abnormal sightings, it would be sure to show up in the paper somewhere.

But day eighty-four was just as fruitless as the eighty-three that came before it. Today the top story was the stock market, as if often turned out to be - whatever the hell that was. Brooklyn hadn't cared to look it up. He still couldn't bring himself to go into the library.

Brooklyn finished making his lines in the airplane crisp and straight before pinching it between his fingers, aiming vaguely for a star, and throwing it out into the dark. It looped back around and spiraled into a steady descent toward the ground.

"Boo."

"Ah!" Brooklyn nearly shot straight off the clocktower. He whirled around to find Broadway standing behind him, his grin wide and smug. For clearing Brooklyn in both height and weight by a significant margin, the other gargoyle was much more stealthy than he looked. "Haha," Brooklyn said dryly. "Very funny."

"I thought so." Broadway chuckled as he stepped to Brooklyn's side. His fists rested on both hips, head turned toward the direction of the earlier gunfire. Brooklyn followed his line of sight - the smoke had dissipated, and in its place were the red and blue flashing lights of police cars. Broadway nodded toward the disturbance. "I think we should check that out."

Brooklyn frowned. "Why? The cops are already there."

"Because that," Broadway said, crossing his arms and looking at his brother with a know-it-all grin, "was a decoy."

With a snort, Brooklyn mirrored Broadway's stance, hands on hips, head cocked. "And how do you know that?"

"Because, ye of little faith, I've been keeping tabs on certain scum while on patrol. That's right, straight up detective work. I never hung up the old trench coat. Listen, I -"

"Did you guys hear all that noise?"

"Jesus - !" Brooklyn whipped around for the second time. His talons scraped against the concrete of the balcony ledge. The culprit this time was Lexington, naturally, who dropped the last few feet from where he hovered in the air and landed on all fours. At least he had half a mind to look apologetic. "You two need bells," Brooklyn said, and rubbed the space between his eyes. Despite having woken just recently from stone sleep, Brooklyn did not feel refreshed. What he had been planning on doing was dumping himself in Hudson's recliner and taking a well deserved nap. It was Sunday night and they were always generally less exciting than the rest of the week. Elisa said it was because religious people went to church on Sunday. Apparently committing crimes on Sunday was worse somehow.

Well, Brooklyn thought, God bless them.

Broadway cleared his throat pointedly. "As I was saying. That noise, all that gunfire, was a decoy."

Lexington crawled up on the ledge beside Brooklyn and leaned against him until his chin settled on the cap of his leader's shoulder. Brooklyn couldn't help but smile tightly to himself; affection, even small doses of it, meant the world to him, especially these days.

"Yeah?" Lexington asked. He did not sound convinced. "You got any proof?"

"Yes. Well. Not, like, physical proof. But I know what I've heard." Broadway sat on the other side of Brooklyn and clapped his hands on his knees. "A few days ago I saw Glasses. He was making a big fuss with some guy behind a liquor store. Elisa said they always thought that place was a front for black market deals but could never prove it. I could hear them screaming all the way down the block, and when I got there Glasses was yelling about Dracon being angry because he didn't get his 'goods'. He said they were just going to get it themselves."

Lexington wrinkled his nose. "What kind of goods?"

Broadway shook his head and shrugged. "Guns, probably. Maybe drugs. Who knows what else Dracon has his nose in. I followed them to a warehouse off fifty-second. They were talking about how they'd shoot the place up, and while the cops were distracted, they'd 'take what's Dracon's."

"Wait, wait." Brooklyn swung his leg over the balcony ledge so he was straddling it, facing Broadway. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

Broadway's mouth opened, then closed without a word. He looked away, down at the city lights sprinkled below them, and seemed almost embarrassed, bringing his hands together and watching his thumbs turn circles in his lap. His large shoulders lifted and fell. "I didn't - you said not to go looking for trouble, if we could help it."

Brooklyn frowned. He had said that. And he had meant it, too. He followed Broadway's eyes down to the city and he thought of Goliath. Goliath loved Manhattan. They all did. Even though this city had no idea who or what they were and only Elisa had ever thanked them for their service, it was home, and it was in a gargoyles' nature to protect it. But the clan was lacking crucial members to still mysterious circumstances, and Brooklyn didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. Even watching them go on their early evening patrols alone caused him enough anxiety to make him twitch. Lexington had started noticing it in just the past few days and said he'd work on making ear pieces for them so they could always stay in touch.

Subconsciously, he reached behind him. Lexington gathered his hand between his own. Words were not needed.

"How do you know that what's going on over there -" Brooklyn nodded toward the cloud of flashing lights, "-is connected, anyway?"

"Because," Broadway lifted a hand and pointed right at the scene. "That's the liquor store."

"Hm," Lexington hummed. "Crime and coincidence rarely go hand-in-hand."

Broadway nodded confidently and twisted to face Brooklyn head on. "I know we're supposed to be taking it easy for now, but these guys buried me once. And Elisa was always trying to bring them down. I … I want to do this. For her." His eyes fell into his lap again. "She'd want that, I think."

Brooklyn's heart clenched. Shit. He squeezed Lexington's hand without thinking and used his free one to thread into his white hair. "Broadway," he sighed, gesturing vaguely toward the commotion in the distance. "Even if we knew where the goods he was talking about were -"

"I know where it is. See, Dracon usually gets his stuff from out of the country - it's cheaper, see, and too risky to fly-"

"How do you know?" Lexington interrupted. Brooklyn could feel a smile digging into his shoulder.

"That's what detectives do." Broadway grinned again. "They investigate. They find the answers. Also, Elisa told me. Anyway." Broadway turned, gestured out toward the shoreline. "Glasses said the stuff was stuck at the docks. We just have to find the right boat."

"Look, Broadway." Brooklyn's free hand rested gently on his brother's shoulder until their eyes met again. "It's just the four of us, and we don't have our inside woman on the force to bring in backup, either. We can't bring the whole gang down, just us."

The light in Broadway's eyes dimmed a little. "I know," he said, shrugging so Brooklyn's hand slipped away. "I just thought, maybe if we just … destroyed the goods, whatever they are, that would make all the difference. It would be that much less drugs on the street. A few less guns." Broadway's lips curled around the final word like it was poison on his tongue. His expression darkened, old memories warped into nightmares casting shadows across his face.

Brooklyn chewed on the side of his tongue. The idea did not sit well in his gut, though few things rarely did these days. He looked out toward the water, at the sheet of white moonlight reflecting off of it, and sighed deeply. After their confrontation in the library, he tried not to sit and obsess on thoughts of Goliath and Elisa and Bronx. It only served to bury him alive and he couldn't afford to keep digging himself out of that bottomless hole, not while he was in charge, not while the whole of the clan looked to him for guidance. He tried to keep their minds off of the missing clan as much as he could, with little tasks and patrolling and games, seeing concerts and watching movies and talking. Lots of talking. His eyes traveled to Broadway, studied his profile. Secrets were not what he wanted. Making any of them feel like they couldn't tell him something, especially something important, out of fear of upsetting him … that wasn't the kind of leader that Goliath was, and it was certainly not the kind of leader that Goliath would want him to be.

Brooklyn leaned over and once again placed his hand on Broadway's shoulder until the other gargoyle offered his eyes. He could see how vital this was for Broadway; with the exception of Goliath, Broadway was closest to Elisa. They made a great team. This, making a solid punch to Dracon, who had tormented Elisa for god only knows how long, who they had worked together to take down before, this was vital for Broadway in moving forward. He needed this to get better.

And Brooklyn needed Broadway - all of them - to be better.

Brooklyn smiled a soft and careful thing and squeezed Broadway's shoulder. "Okay."

Surprise lit Broadway up brighter than the face of the clocktower and the grin that flew across his lips would have shamed the sun (Brooklyn assumed, anyway). His strong arms crushed Brooklyn to his chest. "Thank you," he said into Brooklyn's ear, voice warm, grip tight.

"Uh, hello? What about me?" Lexington dropped off the balcony ledge from behind Brooklyn so he could squirm underneath Broadway's arm. Broadway raised it for him, allowing the smaller gargoyle to fit himself squarely between his two rookery brothers. He looked quite content, too, sandwiched there, with just enough room to breathe.

"What about you, nerd?" Brooklyn managed despite feeling flattened, and Lexington pinched him, and Broadway laughed.

Brooklyn smiled, watching them both, and for the first time in nearly three months, he didn't hurt.

* * *

"You three shouldn't be going alone," Hudson insisted, standing with arms crossed sternly in the threshold of the clocktower.

"It'll be fine," Brooklyn repeated, for the twelfth time. He looked back at Broadway who was waiting impatiently on the ledge. "We probably won't even see anyone. We're just gonna dump some stuff in the ocean."

Hudson's expression became more frustrated lines. "At least let me be a look out for ya, lad."

"Someone has to stay at the clocktower at all times," Brooklyn said sternly, and he sincerely hoped that Hudson would not make him explain again why that rule was in place.

Just in case.

The elder gargoyle hesitated. He looked at each member of the remaining clan in turn for a few silent moments and a distinct struggle raged in his multi-colored eyes. Brooklyn could almost see it tearing him in two.

Finally, Hudson's shoulders fell, and he sighed. "Fine," he grunted, though he looked far from pleased. "But be careful, lads."

"Aren't we always?" Lexington called, laughing as he launched into the dark. Broadway waved as he fell backwards off the ledge.

"Don't worry, Hudson. We'll be back soon." Brooklyn saluted the older gargoyle and with a great leap joined his brothers in the sky.

Other than the company of his clan, few things brought Brooklyn joy anymore, but gliding was one of them; the cool sweet-salt breeze carrying him as gently as if he were just a bird, the blanket of city lights below him brighter than the stars. The wind moved through his hair, filled his lungs, and he wanted to stay suspended in the inky blackness of the night forever. It was a place of inbetween that only asked for the support of his wings, not his shoulders or his heart. Unlike the earth, which ended at the shore, and unlike people, who disappeared, the sky went on and on and he need only jump to find it again.

"Where would you guys fly to if you could?" Brooklyn asked, stretching out his arms and feeling the wind split across his fingers.

"If there were enough hours in the night?" Broadway hummed off Brooklyn's right. He looked out across the water in thought.

Lexington, on the other hand, knew right away. "Tokyo. The technological capital of the world, baby!"

Brooklyn laughed. "I believe humans would call you a, what's the word? A geek."

"And proud, too. Say what you want," Lex said with a grin. "Computers are cool."

"Paris seems nice," Broadway suggested, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "And romantic."

"And they would call you a sap." Brooklyn said, and the trio laughed, and it was their one brief moment in the sky where nothing had changed and everything was right.

They turned their head in unison and there were the docks coming up on them faster than they wanted. Their laughter dissolved into the clouds and as they descended so did their faces. They grew solemn and quiet as they dropped heavily onto the roof of a nearby building. Brooklyn stepped carefully to the edge and looked out toward the row of ships that lined the shore and he was reminded for the hundredth time how different things were in this century. Boats were made of steel, not wood, and powered on engines, not wind. He leaned forward on his palms, felt the scratch of concrete against his skin. He saw streetlights burning yellow halos on the sidewalk. Sometimes he couldn't wrap his mind around how alien it seemed, even after all their time in Manhattan. He thought of fire, how awesome and powerful and dangerous it was when he was a gargoyle of old times; now, a gargoyle of new, he saw humans pull little flames straight out of their pockets.

Before Goliath disappeared, it wasn't so hard to accept. They were together then and that was most important. Now it was like he had lost a limb and he had to learn how to do everything, even simple things, all over again.

Taking down Dracon and his crew of scumbags? A piece of cake, if Goliath was there. Now, just the three of them? Maybe not impossible, but certainly dangerous, and Brooklyn wondered if this was really worth the risk.

"Okay, Detective Broadway," Lexington said, tone playful as he sauntered up beside the bigger gargoyle. "Which boat is it?"

Broadway stood with his hands on his hips, squinting out across the street. "I don't know," he admitted. He scanned his eyes both ways. "We'll have to take a closer look. It'll be a foreign ship, so maybe we can tell by the language the name is written in."

Lexington smiled up at his brother, aglow with pride, and touched his arm. "Elisa would be proud of you, you know. And we don't say it enough," he continued, glancing pointedly at Brooklyn. "But you're smart. You're really smart."

Broadway beamed. "Really?"

Brooklyn's earlier reservations melted away at the sight of his rookery brother smiling like he hadn't in far too long. "Yeah, really," he confirmed, and placed a warm, gentle hand on Broadway's opposite arm. "And we're proud of you, too."

"Thanks, you guys." Broadway bit his lower lip, a tell-tale sign that tears were on the horizon, and both Brooklyn and Lexington squeezed his arms to reassure him that it was okay.

"Come on, big guy." Smiling, Brooklyn tilted up on long toes to peck the taller gargoyle on the cheek with the tip of his beak. "Let's go wreck some stuff that doesn't belong to us."

"You two keep leaving me out today," Lexington whined, which quickly morphed into squeals when the other gargoyles turned on him and planted kisses on every inch of his bald head. He feigned a struggle that was nothing but giggling and by the end of it the trio were nearly tangled on the roof of that building, mission forgotten. And though they did not say it aloud, all three of them would have preferred it in that moment for there to be nothing else outside of them on that rooftop.

But there was a dock in front of them, a city behind them, and the entire world against them. The universe did not stop for anyone, not villains or heroes or three gargoyles who loved each other enough to chase danger into the sea. The world kept spinning.

And so they hesitantly broke apart, dropped from the building, and kept close to the shadows, inching just along the edge of the streetlights close enough to read the titles on the sides of the boats. With Brooklyn in the lead the three walked in silence, keeping their footsteps light and their breathing hushed in case any humans came waltzing their way.

Being on solid ground was unnerving for gargoyles in general as they were creatures of heights, of flight, and Brooklyn was no exception. Their tactical advantages included spotting approaching enemies at great distances from above, leaving Brooklyn in a state of uncomfortable displacement as they moved stealthily down the sidewalk. It also left them particularly vulnerable because they couldn't fly from the ground; they would have to climb to get a good angle to glide away. Would Goliath have already thought this through if he were here? Was it expected of Brooklyn to have planned every possible escape route before they even arrived? His mind raced with a hundred more questions that Goliath had not had time to answer and a thousand insecurities that no one, least of all him, could talk down. By the time he reached the mouth of the alley his palms were damp and he was lapping himself so much in his mind that he barely registered the man who jumped in front of him. One moment he was staring at nothing in particular and the next an elbow rammed right into his face. The pain blinded him momentarily, reeling backwards into Broadway's chest, and when he tried to blink it away he saw nothing but spots.

There was so much noise then, so much commotion he couldn't focus his spinning head on. Broadway and Lexington leaped out from behind him with warrior hearts shining through as they broke into action without a moment's hesitation. Eyes beaming, Brooklyn finally regained himself, turned his attention on a guy whose face was shielded with a ski mask, and pounced.

The time for questions was not just then, but they fired through Brooklyn's brain regardless. As his fist cracked into a man's jaw, he thought, how did he not see this coming? When he kicked the flat of his foot into the same man's chest, landing him several feet away on his back with a loud cry of pain, he thought, would Goliath have been better prepared for an ambush?

There was a moment, a breath of a pause when he spun around and felt the edge of his heel connect with a human jaw that Brooklyn wondered, briefly, why there was an ambush to begin with.

He took in his surroundings quickly - Broadway to his left, Lexington on the right. They moved next to each other until they were back-to-back in a circle, arms raised and fists ready.

"You guys okay?" Brooklyn asked quickly, scanning the dark, seeing no one else.

"Yes," Broadway and Lexington said in unison. "Are you?"

"Yeah." He studied the unconscious men at their feet. Six of them, two per gargoyle. He frowned. "What in the hell -"

Tires screaming across the pavement tore his sentence in half. The trio turned as one to face a pair of blinding headlights and then the side of the van as it turned wildly to the right. Brooklyn barely had a roar in his throat when the door slammed open and before he even saw the people inside, he saw the guns they were holding. Bullets popped out of them with a sound like thunder. Perhaps it was his naturally cocky nature that kept him from feeling uneasy initially - whatever the humans normally used to fashion their bullets rarely damaged gargoyles' thicker skin. But just as the thought manifested in his mind, a searing pain sliced across his forearm. He hissed and clapped a hand over it - when he pulled it away, dark blood coated his palm. Brooklyn felt panic closing his airway; these were not the lasers that stunned, sometimes wounded them, nor were they bullets that didn't pierce their flesh. These were very real, very special bullets, meant to kill.

Meant for them.

Brooklyn sucked a breath through his tightening throat. They were ready for them. How? Why?

Casting aside his pain, he reached out, blindly, for one of his brothers. He knew it was Lexington in his grip without looking at him and he instinctively curled a wing around him while his free hand turned the other way. "Broadway!" He called, urging Lexington toward the very alley the first wave of attackers had come from, anything to give shelter away from the rain of lethal gunfire. "Come on!"

With Lexington half wrapped around his chest, Brooklyn pushed toward the safety of the alley. He had just reached the edge of the building when he looked back and saw that Broadway was not following them. He was standing in a daze, mouth and eyes wide open in shock.

There was never any proof that gargoyle relationships transcended the five senses but Brooklyn had always heard about it as a hatchling and in that moment he believed it without question; he could feel Broadway's terror, Broadway's guilt as vividly as if it were his own, paralyzing him. For a brief moment he could have sworn that he saw the world through Broadway's eyes and he felt nothing but pure, immobilizing horror, saw nothing but a field of guns aimed at him. Brooklyn's heart pounded unmercifully in time with his brother's.

Time crawled unnaturally slowly. He saw a familiar face shrouded in the shadows of the van, though he was not sure if it was with his own eyes or Broadway's, a man with a long white stripe down the middle of his head. He watched him grin, point at Broadway, say something to the man beside him with a gun in his hand. He saw the barrel shift its aim.

And then, strangely, the next thing he felt was fear no longer. It was an emptiness, a sudden chill where something warm had once been. His arms, once full, fell around the hollow space under his wing.

Brooklyn blinked slowly. A flash of green across his vision. A loud shout of Broadway's name. A bang. A cry.

Silence.

He came back into his own body as violently as if he had been pushed from the roof of a building and crashed on top of it. His breath rushed out of him and he couldn't remember how to bring it back in again. Somehow, he took a step forward, but every muscle in his body failed at the same time and he dropped to one knee, eyes fixated on the body of his rookery brother lying still on the ground. Brooklyn's entire universe shrank to that single body, that one boy. Dracon's gang wasn't there. Manhattan wasn't there. Even Goliath and Elisa and Bronx, wherever they were, ceased to exist. It was only his Lexington - his precious, sweet Lexington, and the ground where his blood was pooling.

Something terrible tore its way out of him. An awful, painful roar that ripped through his chest as sharp as any blade and scarred every inch of him on its way into the world. It echoed through the docks, rippled across the water. It shattered the night into pieces the same shapes as his heart.

"Job said only one!"

The words are spoken somewhere far off in a world Brooklyn does not belong in anymore.

His tunnel vision did not widen until Broadway became a part of it; the sound of his knees collapsing hard against the pavement forced the scope of Brooklyn's universe to expand. Brooklyn saw Broadway's face, twisted into something ugly and foreign with grief. He was already weeping. Brooklyn, he realized with a shock that forced the rest of the world back into his field of vision, was weeping, too.

Half crawling, half scrambling, Brooklyn closed the distance between him and his rookery brothers. He did not pause to think or speak. His arms slipped around Lexington's limp, fragile body, and he cradled the small gargoyle to his chest, one hand cupped around the back of his smooth head and the other secured around his waist. Brooklyn pressed his beak to the hollow of Lexington's ear.

"Don't you dare, don't you dare go where I can't reach you," he whispered, glowing eyes shifting over Lexington's shoulder. Inside the van, Dracon grinned, lifted a hand to his forehead, and feigned a salute.

A sheet of red blinded Brooklyn. Every limb, every vein and vessel in his body burned. Words like anger and hatred paled to the consuming wrath that swallowed his being like wildfire.

A familiar touch at his elbow silenced the rush of blood in his ears long enough for Brooklyn to follow the feeling to Broadway, who was holding him in place. Brooklyn had started to stand, Lexington still clasped to his chest, with every intention of hunting Dracon to the ends of the earth.

In his arms, a wet, shuddering gasp. Startled, Brooklyn looked down. Lexington's eyes, half lidded and dazed, met his, and they were so frightened it made him weak in the knees in the worst way. The small gargoyle's face contorted in pain, mouth open with no sound.

Alive, Brooklyn thought, and he caught his breath for the first time in - seconds? Had it only been seconds?

Lexington's eyes rolled backward and Brooklyn's heart seized. Not for long.

When he turned to see Dracon again, the van door slammed shut. The tires peeled against the pavement as the vehicle whipped and sped in the opposite direction leaving only the smell of burning rubber in its wake.

Powerful gargoyle instincts ripped him in two; pursue and punish the enemy, nurture and save the fallen. The battle was as intense as it was brief. Goliath had always taught him that the clan came first.

Brooklyn dropped to his knees again. He rocked with Lexington against his chest, eyes staring blankly at the ground, seeing nothing. A warm, sickening wetness spilled down his front, a steady stream of blood. His breathing quickened as he mumbled soft words of comfort to Lexington (himself?), shushing reassurances that he didn't necessarily believe. His eyes screwed shut. Goliath would know what to do. Goliath would have Lexington half saved by now, and Dracon's demise set in motion. Brooklyn's grip tightened on his small, broken boy and he bit back a whimper at the sound of Lexington's rattling breath.

He was vaguely aware of Broadway speaking but he was locked firmly in his own thoughts. Stone sleep wasn't an option. Dawn was hours away and Lexington would slip away by then. He couldn't very well dump him in a hospital. Elisa wasn't there to think of something clever. Goliath wasn't there with a brilliant idea. They had no magic. No one. Nothing.

His mind cleared for a moment. A whisper of a thought.

There was someone. The absolute last person Brooklyn ever wanted to see with the exception of Demona. A man they had to thank every day for giving them their lives back and the same man who had put all of their lives at stake over and over again. Their savior and their torment since the very beginning.

A wave of nausea nearly knocked him flat on his back. He held fast to Lexington, a buoy.

No one else knew about them. No one else had the skills. Out there on the docks in the dark, it was the only ship with a light on.

"...Brooklyn, say something!"

Brooklyn's eyes shot open. He whirled on Broadway, eyes still glowing, and he didn't know if it was for Dracon or for him. His brother's face was stained with tears. His large frame shook. Brooklyn looked at him and saw red.

It was his fault they were even there. It was his crime to solve, his game to play.

It was him Lexington was trying to save from that bullet.

Brooklyn planted one foot flat against the ground, then the other, straining to stand not because who he carried was heavy but because his heart was. He adjusted Lexington against his chest, felt his skin move slick against the other gargoyle's from the blood that coated him.

Brooklyn couldn't bear to look at Lexington's paling face again so he turned to the only other person he loved as much. The agony in Broadway's eyes was palpable but he felt nothing of it. The connection that he had felt so strongly moments ago was dimmed by his rage. It threatened to sever it completely. He could sense that, somehow.

Right now, he realized he didn't care.

"Go get Hudson and meet me at Xanatos' tower."

Confusion struggled to find a foothold on Broadway's face and lost to his pain. "Brooklyn, please, I -"

"Now!" Brooklyn barked, and tucked Lexington closer to his chest when Broadway reached for him, like he was poison. He watched Broadway's face morph into something unrecognizable, something so awful Brooklyn couldn't stand to look at it. He pressed his forehead against Lexington's and listened to Broadway scrambling up the side of the building so he could catch a draft back home. Brooklyn took just one moment to breathe, to tilt Lexington back far enough to examine the small hole in his chest, just above his heart, barely the size of Brooklyn's fingertip.

Lexington tried to reach for Brooklyn's face, rib cage shuddering, and Brooklyn caught the slow hand and flattened it to his own chest. His heart raced against Lexington's palm, as if by feeling his, Lexington's would not succumb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: implied surgery/organ transplant, but nothing graphically described other than scars/stitches. Emotional manipulation.

* * *

Chapter Three

The castle he had called home for more years asleep than awake broke over a sea of clouds like a dream. The whole night felt like a dream, an awful, terrible nightmare, and he waited with straining arms and lungs for the moment when the stone over his eyes would shatter, revealing a peaceful Manhattan at his feet, his loving brothers on either side, and Hudson already talking about what they would have for breakfast.

Brooklyn wasn't even asking for the fantasy he often dreamed about, the one where he woke up and Goliath and Elisa and Bronx had returned, unharmed and alive and with arms wide open, apologies and kisses on their lips. He would happily settle for the life he had been struggling to live an hour ago. It seemed a paradise now.

He waited and waited and sobbed because it wasn't happening. As he drew nearer the castle only solidified. Lexington's body in his arms only became heavier. By the time Brooklyn was close enough to drop to the ground, ancient and familiar stone at his feet, his wings and arms burned with the effort of carrying an extra body. But he did not stall, not for a second.

"Lexington," he said as he broke into a run, cradling the boy as gently as he could against his chest. "I'll take you to Tokyo myself if you hold on for me, okay?" His feet slapped loudly on the stone. "I can't lose you, too. I need you. We need you. Don't you dare leave, you hear me?" His words would have been shouts had he the strength and the breath but they were only broken sobs. His eyes turned toward the stars. Please don't take him, he begged them, and then rammed his shoulder through the double wooden doors with a bang.

The main room was massive and empty. Brooklyn checked Lexington again and panic rooted him to the floor. The entire upper half of both of their bodies was completely drenched in dark ruby blood. Lexington's eyes were shut, mouth open, the green color of his skin replaced with a ghostly shade of grey.

He wasn't breathing.

Brooklyn cried out. "Xanatos!" He dropped to his knees and placed Lexington on the smooth, cool ground. He flattened his palm over the wound in Lexington's chest. "Xanatos!"

"Shouting is hardly necessary."

Brooklyn blinked hard to clear the tears from his eyes and saw - God, in his panic and fear he couldn't even remember the man's name - the tall, stoic blonde that followed Xanatos around like a very obedient pet. He stood with hands collected behind his back and a face as strict and unfeeling as stone in the threshold of a side door. Brooklyn tried to form words but could not get his brain to connect with his mouth. He looked down at Lexington. The gargoyle was nearly white. Blood pooled on the floor.

"Please -!" The word shattered on the end of a gut wrenching sob like it was the only one he knew. "Please, please, please…" He bent over Lexington's body, head against the boy's chest, and sobbed so hard he didn't hear the clicking of Xanatos' boots on the ground, didn't see the man stop in front of him as calmly as if he were observing a piece of artwork. Brooklyn only looked up after Xanatos coughed for his attention and when he did he couldn't wrap his mind around it; him, on his knees, Lexington slipping away in his arms, and Xanatos, with that ever present infuriating half-smile, pleased as punch.

"Breaking and entering," Xanatos began, dark eyes flicking behind Brooklyn with a sharp tsk of his tongue to the doors he had broken open. "I thought you and your friends fought crime rather than perpetuated it."

He was talking over Lexington like he wasn't literally right there on the ground, all of his life force draining out on the floor. Brooklyn shook his head - there was no room, no time for banter. His arms slipped under Lexington and held him like he was his bride. He found his footing and stood on shaking knees and extended the small gargoyle, an offering at an altar. "Please," Brooklyn begged, voice as tired and strained as the rest of his body. "Save him."

Xanatos, grinning like a god, examined his prize for a moment, then shifted his eyes back to Brooklyn. "And why should I?"

Brooklyn's eyes flashed. He took a half step forward, Lexington pressed tight to his chest, and in his peripherals he saw the blonde man - Owen, the name suddenly came back to him - mirror his movement. They both paused and glanced at each other, unspoken warnings travelling both ways.

"Because," Brooklyn said through clenched teeth. His eyes sharpened on Xanatos again. How glad he was, suddenly, that Broadway and Hudson were not there, what a relief it was knowing that Goliath did not have to be a witness to Brooklyn willingly dropping to his knees once more. He knew how small he looked, how weak. His grip flexed around Lexington. He didn't care. "Because," he repeated, voice cracked. "I'm begging you. And I will do anything to save him."

"Anything is a broad term," Xanatos said, a husky whisper. He stared down his nose at the display before him with a grin that showed every one of his teeth.

Brooklyn nodded. "I know."

Xanatos' eyes narrowed. "Perfect. Owen?"

"Right away, sir."

Owen moved quite quickly, actually, as if he could not wait to get started. He met Brooklyn's eyes when he knelt but when he reached to take Lexington out of his arms Brooklyn hesitated briefly, stealing one more moment with his beautiful boy. "I love you," he said, hand smoothing over Lexington's head, beak pressed against his ear. "Please don't go."

"Time is of the essence," Owen pressed. Brooklyn lifted his head and looked at him, and although the man's expression was as blank as ever, there was something catching in the eyes behind the frames of his glasses that Brooklyn could not decipher.

Brooklyn's arms fell limp to his sides as Owen took the gargoyle away and walked briskly toward the door where he had originally appeared. Lexington's head lulled over the crook of his elbow and then they were gone. He stared after them for a long time, looking into the darkness where they had disappeared and feeling like Lexington had left for an entirely different dimension, one where Brooklyn could not follow. His eyes burned again and he did nothing to keep the tears at bay, allowing them to stream heavily down his face and fall in fat droplets to pepper the pool of blood under his knees.

Xanatos' arms crossed and the movement pulled Brooklyn's eyes off the empty door to stare up at the man instead. Xanatos looked the picture of pleased and Brooklyn prepared himself for more taunting, more bicker and banter, but it didn't come. Instead, Xanatos' chin motioned him to stand. "You're hurt," he said, turning fluidly on his heel. "Let's get you taken care of."

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed in confusion. He glanced down, seeing only Lexington's blood on him, and was legitimately about to ask what the hell Xanatos was talking about when his brain suddenly slammed back in sync with the rest of his body. The bullet that had sliced across his forearm - he had completely forgotten about it, but now pain shot up his arm in hot flashes like lightning. He hissed when he cupped his palm over the long, angry red line.

"Are you coming?" Xanatos pressed from several yards away, standing near another door, this one on the opposite side of the one Owen and Lexington had gone into. Brooklyn hesitated and stared between them. He wanted to go where Lexington was. He wanted to watch Owen like a hawk and stand guard at Lexington's side, hold his hand, talk to him, make sure he knew that Brooklyn had never left him. Being alone with Xanatos made him uneasy on a good day - now, with so much advantage tilted in his favor, it almost made him sick.

Brooklyn shook his head as he summoned the strength to stand. "I'm fine," he said. "I want to go with Lexington."

"He is being prepped for a very extensive surgery. Owen is more than capable, I assure you, but he will need to concentrate. You would only distract him from the...problem, at hand." Xanatos quipped a smile. "Wouldn't want that, would we?"

Brooklyn frowned. He squeezed the wound on his arm and flinched to keep himself from flying across the room and ripping that grin right off of Xanatos' face. How dare he talk about Lexington like he was some minor inconvenience, a piece of gum at the bottom of his shoe? How dare he talk to Brooklyn like his very world wasn't unraveling, now even faster than it was before?

He wondered if Xanatos had ever in his life experienced grief, least of all guilt.

Brooklyn bowed his head, squeezed his arm like a punishment. He thought of Broadway, his sweet Broadway, staring up at him with such sorrow and anguish in his eyes, a face that would haunt his nightmares just as much as Lexington's wounded body would, and he felt like he might be sick. This wasn't Broadway's fault. It was his. He allowed them to pursue Broadway's clues. He allowed them to walk right into an ambush. He was in charge, he was second - no, he was leader, and he let this happen. He let it happen so easily he might as well have pulled the trigger himself.

"Enough," Xanatos said sternly from the other side of the room. Brooklyn sniffled loudly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. "Let's get you wrapped up. Come on."

Brooklyn walked fast, as if he could out run his thoughts that way. He followed Xanatos by the sound of his footsteps but didn't even bother to look where he was being led. When they finally turned into a room Brooklyn didn't so much as lift his head - he dropped heavily into the nearest chair and stared blankly at the wall. Meanwhile, Xanatos rummaged through a row of cabinets on the wall, humming softly to was dressed in his usual business attire, like he had just left an important meeting or was on his way to somewhere important. Brooklyn couldn't think of a time he had not seen Xanatos sharply dressed. He supposed it was a reflection of his massive ego. He had to look the part at all times to maintain his inflated sense of self.

Brooklyn's eyes shifted to watch him gather supplies in one arm and frowned.

"It's really not necessary," Brooklyn mumbled. He examined the wound and felt bad for even thinking it was painful, all things considered. "This will heal during the day."

Xanatos shrugged and looked at Brooklyn over his shoulder. His grin had yet to waver. "No need to be uncomfortable until then." He placed his supplies on the counter beside Brooklyn and then pulled an empty chair off the opposite wall. He planted it in front of the gargoyle and sat with purpose, reaching first for a towel and a brown bottle. "This will sting," Xanatos said, and Brooklyn rolled his eyes only to tense up and hiss as the liquid poured over his arm. "I warned you," Xanatos smirked, curling his hand tightly around Brooklyn's thick forearm and wiping the wound with the towel.

Brooklyn hid his face behind his free hand so he didn't have to watch Xanatos tend to him like some smug mother bird. It was humiliating enough just being here, begging Xanatos for his help like a coward. Goliath's face flashed on the back of his eyelids when he blinked.

Would he be understanding or disappointed?

"You seem very attached to that one."

Brooklyn peaked between the cracks in his fingers. Xanatos did not look up. "What?"

"The wounded gargoyle."

"His name is Lexington," Brooklyn said, tone hinted with warning.

Xanatos smirked. "Of course. Lexington." He set aside the bottle and towel and replaced them with a cream that soothed the fire-like pain on contact. Brooklyn visibly relaxed as Xanatos smeared the clear, thick substance in a straight line, and Xanatos smiled in response. "I never did quite understand the … dynamics of gargoyle relationships, but you seem awfully close."

Brooklyn did not understand whatever question Xanatos was trying to ask. He dropped his hand from his face, letting it slap against his knee. "Is now really the time for this?"

Xanatos shrugged. "The surgery is going to take a while, I imagine. And your other friends will be here soon, yes? We have had very little - if any - time alone, you and I, so why not get to know each other better?"

Brooklyn's eyes emitted a faint glow. When Xanatos glanced up at him there was just a flicker of fear in his face. "I don't want to get to know you, Xanatos. I'm only here because I had no other options."

"Ah." Xanatos pursed his lips, pondering that for a moment. "Goliath has not returned, then."

"Don't," Brooklyn snapped, and he didn't have the energy to talk any further on that subject.

Pulling away, Xanatos lifted his hands briefly in a surrender-like position. "Fine." He reached then for a wrap of white bandages and leaned closer still to get a better angle on Brooklyn's arm. "You still didn't answer my question."

"You didn't ask one."

Xanatos chuckled. "True. Fine, I'll be blunt then." He wrapped the bandages around Brooklyn's arm once then paused long enough to lift his eyes, catching Brooklyn's. "Is your relationship with Lexington of a romantic nature?"

Brooklyn stared right back, unflinching. "Why do you care?"

The human shrugged, turned dark eyes back to the bandages and started wrapping again. "I'm a curious man."

Brooklyn huffed and leaned back, staring at the wall behind Xanatos' back. "Gargoyles don't work like you humans do. Love is different for us. You wouldn't understand it."

"Try me."

Xanatos' stare was probing and Brooklyn could almost physically feel it crawling over his flesh. He closed his eyes and saw Broadway and Lexington smiling back at him. His chest swelled. His heart ached. And the words fell out of his tired body before he could think to stop them because what remained of his clan was the only thing that could give him strength.

"If you're asking if I love Lexington, yes. Of course I do. I love Broadway the same way. We're rookery brothers, we have a special bond. A bond I can't expect you to understand. We grew together, learned together, slept a thousand years together. Gargoyles don't limit their hearts like humans do. We don't love one at time. We don't love just one forever. If it's there, it's there, and it's always beautiful. I would die for them and they -" He choked and took a deep breath that shuddered in his chest and hurt so goddamn much he almost started crying again. "Is that what you would call romantic? Sure. Whatever. To me," he said, eyes opening and settling on Xanatos fiercely, as if daring him to even try and comprehend what he was talking about. "It's a hell of a lot bigger and better than that."

Xanatos' mouth was slightly open, his hand wrapped tightly around the now fully bandaged wound on Brooklyn's arm. He looked positively delighted.

Brooklyn's heart raced, fearing he had shared too much, but he had little time to dwell on the matter; his back suddenly straightened and he turned his head toward the door, toward the sound of -

"Brooklyn!"

"Broadway!" Brooklyn lept from the chair and nearly dozed Xanatos' completely over on his rush to the door. He whipped down the hallway, toward the light of the main room, and just before he crossed the threshold he saw Broadway's form fill the space. He let out a cry and sprinted the last few yards until he was close enough to jump at him. The bigger gargoyle caught him fluidly and held him up so that just his toes scraped the floor.

"Are you okay? Is Lex okay?" Broadway rushed against his ear, hands tightened around Brooklyn's back. He was crying, breathing heavily, hysterical. "Where is he? What happened? Where -"

"Shh," Brooklyn shushed, holding Broadway's face gently between his hands and pressing his beak to the other's mouth in a warm, quick kiss. "Calm down. Calm down. He's in surgery. He's being worked on right now." Brooklyn buried his face in Broadway's neck and tried not to shake, having never been so relieved in his life to see him.

Broadway nearly melted to the floor. "He's alive?"

Brooklyn nodded, did not say aloud the 'for now' he was thinking, and squeezed Broadway as hard as he could. He turned out of Broadway's neck and saw Hudson standing horrified a few feet away. He looked a hundred years old. Brooklyn pried himself from Broadway's grasp and reached for his elder, who moved like he was in a dream, slowly pulling himself into Brooklyn's arms and holding him close.

"Oh, lad," he sighed, defeated, rubbing Brooklyn's back as the younger gargoyle started to shake. "I gotcha now, son. It's alright."

"It's not alright," Brooklyn sobbed, hands clenching in Hudson's shirt. Whatever sense of peace he had built in the time between Lexington being taken away and them arriving had completely dissolved. He felt like he was falling with broken wings and the ground was rushing up to meet him. "I took him there. I knew it was risky, I knew it was dangerous and I did it anyway, it's my fault and if he dies it'll be my fault -"

"Brooklyn," Broadway took Brooklyn by the shoulder and forced him around. He cupped one big hand around Brooklyn's face. Brooklyn felt so small. "It was my idea. My stupid idea. It was me he was trying to save. I just - I just froze." Broadway's face twisted in pain at the memory. His hands slipped from Brooklyn's face and covered his own. "I couldn't move. I was so scared. That bullet was for me! And now Lexington is going to die because of me!"

"Both of ya, stop this." Hudson took each of the younger gargoyles in one hand and they simultaneously leaned against him like two children coddled up to their grandfather. "It's no one's fault but the sorry bastard with the gun. And we'll take him down as soon as our little one is out of the woods - what in blasted hell are ya staring at, boy?!"

Brooklyn spun on his heel, eyes glowing, wings spread, only to falter at the sight of Xanatos paused mid-stride. He had been circling them like a predator on prey, his grin almost hungry as he studied them in silence. Being caught did not seem to phase him. He simply chuckled, hands sweeping behind his back. "Truly fascinating," he mused, like he was at a zoo observing wild animals. Like they were a sideshow.

Like they were freaks.

Brooklyn roared. His next movements happened quickly and were fueled with so much fury that they disconnected him from the rest of his body, as if he had stepped outside it and let something darker take control. In two steps he faced Xanatos and without pause, grabbed him by his shirt collar and slammed his back into the wall. The sound of his skull ricocheting off the stone behind it gave Brooklyn a disturbing sense of satisfaction. His vision narrowed like a long tunnel and he saw something cross the human's face, something other than the usual smugness, his pretentious air of superiority. It was surprise. It was fright. Brooklyn twisted his wrist until the collar of Xanatos' shirt tightened hard enough to pale the skin it touched, beginning to choke him. "I don't know what this is to you, you pompous ass," Brooklyn snarled, wings flexing wider so he encompassed all of Xanatos' sight. He watched the man's pupils widen."But we are not your experiments and we aren't your toys to play with. If you don't stop treating us like funny little pets, I swear to your god I'll make you pay for it."

Xanatos laughed, breathless, trying to regain a sense of himself. "By killing the only man who can help your wounded love?"

Brooklyn hissed, yanked the man off the wall and smacked him against it again with a loud crack. The smell of iron - blood - met his nose. "No," he growled, low in his chest. "I'll start breaking your fingers one by one every time you open your mouth until your lackey finishes fixing him."

Xanatos might have looked amused if he didn't seem so wary. "Such a violent threat. What would Goliath think?"

And just as suddenly as the rage consumed him, the flame went out. Brooklyn recoiled as if Xanatos had burned him, treading backward until Broadway gathered him in his arms and whispered soft words in his ear that Brooklyn felt but didn't really hear.

What would Goliath think? The words echoed in his mind like a haunting.

"Sir, is everything all right?"

Brooklyn turned. Owen had emerged from the dark doorway. Lexington was not with him.

His heart dropped into his stomach. "Where is he? Is he okay? What did you do to him?" Broadway's arms flexed around his shoulders, shushing him.

"He's stable. For now. The injury is … more severe than I anticipated." Owen spoke directly to Xanatos. His face, normally a very blank canvas, was slightly strained. "He will need a new heart."

The world ripped itself out from under Brooklyn's feet. He would have hit the floor had Broadway not caught him.

A new heart. They might as well have told them to fly to Tokyo and back before the sun came up. It wasn't possible. Eyes clenching shut, Brooklyn bowed his head and shook with sobs. Broadway's hands trembled on his arms.

"Then we will make him a new one."

The silence that followed eclipsed the whole world. Brooklyn lifted his head. Xanatos, hands smoothing out his wrinkled collar, stepped up beside them. His expression was nonchalant, as if Owen had just told him his car had been towed. An inconvenience, sure, but nothing a little money couldn't fix.

Brooklyn gaped at him, tried to find his breath. "What?"

"I said, we will make him a new one. Have you forgotten, Brooklyn, the kind of business I own? All those experiments and toys I play with?" His lips curled tightly at the corner of his mouth. "I'd be happy to fashion an artificial heart for your friend. That is," he added thoughtfully, finally meeting Brooklyn's eyes. "If you apologize for that rude behavior a moment ago."

Brooklyn's chest swelled again. "You deserved it -"

"Brooklyn," Broadway spoke very softly at his ear.

He hesitated. Looked at Broadway, at Hudson. Their faces mirrored his grief and terror. He thought of Lexington fading away in another room.

What would Goliath think?

Xanatos grinned.

"I'm sorry." He spoke through teeth so tightly clenched his jaw ached.

"Beg pardon?" Xanatos leaned closer, a hand cupped around his ear. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn repeated with a grunt. His eye twitched.

Xanatos shook his head. "Funny, I heard you just fine when you were begging on your knees earlier." His eyes darkened. His teeth flashed behind his lips. "Perhaps you could try that again."

"Now, see here, ya scabby, howlin' bastard -" Hudson's hand moved to the sword at his hip and his eyes were clouded with an anger Brooklyn had never seen before.

The younger gargoyle lifted his hand to stop Hudson in his pursuit. "It's okay." Brooklyn was surprised at how reassuring he sounded. He did not feel it as strongly.

Goliath had always taught him that the clan came first. This, this embarrassing, lowly act was just that - a display to please Xanatos. It didn't matter. Lexington surviving mattered. Goliath would understand.

He hoped.

The stone met his knees again. He looked up at Xanatos, who stared back like Brooklyn was a feast.

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn said for the third time. He did not mean it.

Xanatos smiled like he knew. "Apology accepted. Owen, take me to him. We have a long night ahead of us, don't we?"

Brooklyn rose to his feet. "I want to see him."

"Not wise." Owen said, joining Xanatos at his side. "He is hooked up to very sensitive equipment and any disturbance could prove fatal. It would be best for you and your kin to remain here while we work."

Brooklyn's hands collected into fists. "And how do I know you're not lying? How do I know you won't turn him into one of your goddamn robots?"

Xanatos laughed, a hearty, loud sound. He clapped a hand on Brooklyn's shoulder like they were friends. "Brooklyn." He squeezed the joint with a smile. "How can we ever be friends if you don't trust me?"

The long, challenging look that Brooklyn offered in response would have shed the skin off of anyone else. Xanatos only chuckled and took to Owen's side as they left the room. Brooklyn did not take his eyes off of them until they were absorbed into the shadows, but just before they disappeared, he saw Owen's hand raise to gingerly touch the wound at the back of Xanatos' head.

* * *

Although he had technically been on this earth for over a thousand years, Brooklyn usually didn't think of himself as being that old, but now he felt every single one of those years resting heavily on his shoulders as he stared at the clock on the wall. Every second felt like a day. Every hour felt like a decade.

He sighed, ran a hand down his face, and bounced his foot against the floor with growing impatience.

"That's the ninth time you've sighed like that in the past hour," Broadway said, the arm that was already wrapped around Brooklyn tightening.

"Yeah, well." He leaned into Broadway's embrace and closed his eyes. "I'm afraid."

Broadway nodded his chin against the top of Brooklyn's head. "Me, too."

"Aye." Hudson added from the chair on the opposite wall. "Make that three." The gargoyle looked down at his hands like he did not recognize them. "It isn't natural for the elders to outlive the wee ones."

"Hudson." Brooklyn's voice was sharp. When Hudson lifted his bleary, wet eyes to look back at him, he softened. "Lexington is not going to die." The words are as firm as his tone. He is convincing them both as well as himself.

Hudson nodded but his eyes were hundreds of years away. "Aye, lad."

None of them spoke for a long time after that. Brooklyn's eyes drilled into the clock for so long he wasn't sure he could tell time anymore, Hudson faded in and out of a restless doze, and Broadway counted his breathing. They each took their turn crying on and off.

It was hours of nothing. Of silence. It was the worst agony Brooklyn could think of. Clans were not meant to be separated, especially in times of danger, times of pain. Brooklyn should have never let that man take Lexington away from him. The longer he sat, the more convinced he became that they were harvesting his rookery brother, shipping him off somewhere for study, morphing him into something unrecognizable, replacing all of his parts with metal. His panic peaked so high that Broadway had to rock him against his chest to shush him.

There were no windows in the room they waited in but Brooklyn could feel dawn quickly approaching like a slow leak. More than once he almost stood with the decision to go find them himself, but Broadway stopped him with a careful hand. Brooklyn shook his head against Broadway's soft shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here," he mumbled.

Broadway kissed the top of Brooklyn's head and said nothing.

Xanatos' approach was heard before he was seen; the three gargoyles were already standing and facing him by the time he reached the doorway. He smiled at them, fingers folded across his chest.

"Take us to him," Brooklyn demanded.

Xanatos looked apologetic. "He's just had an entire organ replaced -"

"No." Brooklyn stepped up to him again, straightening to his full height. "We are going to see him before the sun comes up with or without you."

"Are you still threatening me, Brooklyn?" Xanatos leaned closer with one eyebrow arched. Rather than seeming upset about it, he looked rather excited.

Brooklyn almost rolled his eyes. "I'm really not in the mood to play with you right now. Dawn is almost here. Let us see him." He lowered his voice. "Please."

Xanatos hummed under his breath and looked thoughtful, like he was weighing the pros and cons of continuing this banter, and ultimately decided against it. "Certainly. Follow me."

The three gargoyles did so anxiously. Broadway held one of Brooklyn's hands in both of his own from behind. Xanatos led them through several long, dark hallways, hallways that Brooklyn remembered running down as a hatchling, chasing his rookery brothers, playing hide and find - that is until the humans came, and then they were banished to live only on the outside of those walls. Brooklyn stared hard at the back of Xanatos' head and his infuriating ponytail.

History repeated itself and it made the future so grim.

Finally, Xanatos turned into a room. He swept the door open and stood aside so they could file in one at a time, Brooklyn in the lead, and there on a bed of white was a resting, peaceful Lexington.

Brooklyn nearly collapsed. He managed to make his way to the side of the bed before he did, kneeling just beside Lexington's head. Broadway flanked to the opposite side and Hudson stood at the foot of it, hands on the metal bars that bordered the bed and bent over. They all began to cry with relief.

Before anything else, the first thing Brooklyn saw was Lexington's chest rising and falling. Breathing. Alive. He ran his palm across the small gargoyle's forehead. The skin was hot, clammy. "Thank you for not leaving," he whispered, leaning forward close enough to kiss Lex's closed eyes.

Broadway scooped one of Lexington's hands from the sheets and brought it to his lips. "I'm so sorry," he whispered against the back of it, blinking tears down his cheeks.

Brooklyn shook his head. "Broadway, he's alive. That's all that matters."

But Broadway didn't look at him. He was staring at Lexington's chest. Brooklyn followed his line of sight and faltered.

A scar. Two, actually - the first a long, vertical line, the entire length of Lexington's sternum. It was held together with what looked like black wire, and the skin was angry and red where it joined. Brooklyn touched the very edge of it, only to flinch back at Lexington emitting a short hiss through his teeth. The other was to the left of the first. Bullet shaped. Only then did Brooklyn see how pale Lexington was, how he trembled in the sheets. Sweat collected on his brow and slid down the sides of his face.

Alive, he thought. But just barely.

"Your friend will be fine." It was Owen's voice, though Brooklyn did not turn around to look. He was never going to take his eyes off of Lexington again if he could help it. "The surgery was intense and he almost rejected the artificial heart, but it eventually took. I'm assuming that after a day of sleep, everything internal will have healed."

Brooklyn stood. He looked over his shoulder at Xanatos and Owen, shoulder to shoulder at the door. As he passed Hudson on his way to them, he touched the elder's arm for support. When he finally stood before the two humans he met both of their eyes and bowed his head. "Thank you. Both of you. Lexington would not have survived without your help, and as much as I don't care for either of you -" He swallowed and stood straight again. "I am grateful. And I owe you more than I can say."

Xanatos beamed. He reached out and placed a hand on Brooklyn's shoulder. It felt heavier than it should.

"We will discuss all of that later, my friend. The sun is rising and you all need a good day's rest."

"We're not leaving him alone," Brooklyn warned.

"Of course not. You're more than welcome to stay here." He withdrew his hand and shifted his eyes to Lexington. Brooklyn looked as well, at Broadway kneeling to take a defensive stance as the sun came, and Hudson mirroring the pose at the end of the bed. Brooklyn's heart swelled with so much love for them it hurt to beat in his chest.

Xanatos released a loud sigh. "Dracon always makes a mess of things, doesn't he?"

Brooklyn started to nod, mouth opened to express his agreement, but nothing came out. His brain began to fire a thousand thoughts per second, racing against the clock of dawn as it began to break over the horizon outside.

He looked at Xanatos, shock sinking him like a tidal wave, making his knees and hands shake. For several long, torturous seconds, he fought to find his voice again. "I never told you it was Dracon," he managed, and could not catch his breath when Xanatos turned to stare back at him. The human's eyes were bright as flames.

"I know," Xanatos replied. He smiled.

Brooklyn's ears rang. His vision bled. And as stone crawled over him he reached for Xanatos' throat and the last thing he saw was his claws inches from the human's flesh and Xanatos smiling, laughing, and leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: threatening, mild torture, emotional manipulation.

* * *

Chapter Four

Stone sleep healed gargoyles of minor injuries, rejuvenated their strength, and more importantly it allowed their minds to dream and rest.

Brooklyn didn't even get that much.

As soon as the stone shattered from his skin, Brooklyn was snarling, eyes glowing and wings and claws out. He reached out to where Xanatos had stood hours before only to grab at the empty air. Immediately he moved for the door, rage fueling every movement, every thought. He would catch that bastard if it was the very last thing he ever did. He would wring his neck until the truth came out and then he would make him pay a hundred, a thousand horrible deaths for what he did to Lexington-

"Brooklyn?"

The voice washed over him like cold water on a burn. He thought he would never hear that voice again just the night before.

"Lex?" Brooklyn spun. All three gargoyles were watching him with wary curiosity at his behavior but he only saw Lexington in the center. Awake. Eyes open. Breathing. Speaking.

He was alive. By the stars, he was alive, and Brooklyn left his rage at the door.

Rushing to the side of the bed, Brooklyn wrapped his arms and wings around Lexington. If he could have his way, he'd never let his precious boy go ever again, but Broadway begged to hold him next, and then Hudson, and if the bed could have held them all they probably would have made themselves fit around him, somehow.

For a few wonderful minutes, Brooklyn forgot what he was angry about.

When everyone had had a chance to hug him, to kiss him, they finally gave Lexington room to breathe. He looked at each of them with a relieved smile, eyes half lidded, like he was struggling to stay awake.

"What happened?" Lexington asked his leader in a whisper. Brooklyn took the hand that reached for him. "I remember going down to the docks. I remember being ambushed." He clenched his eyes shut. "But the rest …"

"You were shot." Brooklyn eased on his knee beside the bed. His free hand smoothed out the worried wrinkles in Lex's forehead.

"You took a bullet for me." Broadway hid behind one of his wings. "I'm so sorry, Lexington, I froze, I panicked and I couldn't move, and you got hurt so bad-"

"Broadway. Shh." Lexington raised his hand - with great effort - to push aside Broadway's wing. The bigger gargoyle gathered it in his own. "You're alive. I'm alive." Lexington's face clouded with confusion again. "How - how am I alive?"

He looked down at the scarred flesh of his chest for the first time and gasped, wincing in pain at the way his muscles flexed with the movement. Tearing his hands from the other gargoyles, he touched each of the scars that told their own stories of what had happened.

"What-?!"

"Lad, calm down." Hudson was not looking at them. His eyes were on a monitor that Brooklyn hadn't even noticed until just then, because suddenly it was flashing. The small screen was mounted above and to the left of Lexington's bed. Brooklyn recognized it because he had seen it in movies: a heart monitor. An artificial heart monitor, in this case. It flashed with Lexington's rising blood pressure as he examined the long, thick scar down his sternum. "Breathe," Hudson urged.

"What is this?!" Lexington pointed to the scar. Sleep had done well to heal it; the flesh no longer looked red and angry, and the stitches that held it together had shed with the rest of his stone skin. It ran the length of his sternum in deep violet.

"Lexington." Brooklyn took each of Lexington's hands and pried them off of his chest. He leaned close so that all Lex could see was his face. "What I'm going to tell you is going to - freak you out a little bit. But just remember that you're alive, okay? And we're here. And we're together. Okay?"

"Brook," Lex breathed heavily, eyes wide and strained with panic.

He squeezed the smaller gargoyles' hands. "The bullet hit your heart. There was nowhere else to go but to - to Xanatos." Anger filled him up but quickly drained out of him as he met Lexington's frightened eyes. "They couldn't save your heart, Lex. And there wasn't any other options -"

"What did he put in me, Brooklyn?" Lexington tried to sit up and cried out, his face contorting with pain. Broadway placed a careful but firm hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. It didn't work.

"An artificial heart." Brooklyn set his jaw tightly and could not look at Lexington's face anymore. The smaller gargoyle fell quiet and still. His eyes stared at the ceiling, saw nothing. The monitor finally stopped flashing. After a minute of tense silence, Brooklyn finally spoke again, hand cupping Lex's upper arm. "You're alive. Nothing else matters."

Lexington's lower lip quivered. "My heart isn't real."

"No, no, Lex." Broadway leaned down and planted a kiss on Lexington's temple. "Your heart is very real. Besides, think how popular you would be in Tokyo right now."

A sudden, unexpected smile caught on Lexington's lips, a breathless laugh. He pinched tears between his eyelids and turned into Broadway's touch.

Brooklyn looked to Hudson, who tried to offer a confident nod, one that said something like 'it'll be alright', but neither of them were convinced of the sentiment.

"I have to go talk to Xanatos," Brooklyn said with a surprisingly even tone. Now that he knew Lexington was okay - that he was still very much himself - his rage was becoming harder and harder to push aside. He started for the door until Hudson caught him by the wrist.

"When you woke up you were actin' awfully strange, son," Hudson said, frowning.

Brooklyn hesitated. He glanced back at Lexington, Broadway. They were more fragile now than he had ever seen them. Goliath and Elisa and Bronx disappearing had nearly broken all of them, and now this.

Anything else was too much. Anything else would be cruel to tell them right now.

"A bad dream," Brooklyn assured. He offered a smile that felt like a wince. "Keep an eye on him real close, okay? And don't-" Brooklyn frowned, tilted closer and lowered his voice. "If Xanatos comes, don't let him in."

Hudson kept his eyes on the two gargoyles cuddling on the bed. "What for?"

"Just trust me."

"I do, lad. I do."

Brooklyn nodded, patted Hudson on the arm, and then left the room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned his back against it for a minute and felt like he was trying to catch his breath for the first time since the night before. The quiet was welcoming. He wanted to float through the ceiling, back into the big empty sky with the moon washing his red skin white, and appreciate the quiet for a while.

He looked down the hallway. It seemed more narrow than it was, more daunting, the way they always do in nightmares.

When he emerged in the main room, Owen was there to greet him, and a hundred terrible thoughts fired through his mind. Many of them involved hurting Owen because as far as Brooklyn was concerned he was just as guilty as his boss, or using him like a hostage to force Xanatos to tell him the truth, or carrying him up toward the stars and dangling him by the foot until he cracked - all of this and much more gruesome scenarios played in his mind in the span of a few awful seconds.

"Xanatos is waiting to meet with you." Owen eyed him carefully, as if Brooklyn's thoughts were projected on the floor in front of him, like he knew the gargoyle's blood was boiling just beneath his skin. "This way."

Brooklyn followed in silence and thought about all the different ways he and Xanatos were so far removed from each other, one key difference being that Brooklyn could have these thoughts and know he would never act on them. He wondered how long Xanatos had sat on his plan to get one of them injured before he finally went through with it. Did he struggle at all with the moral implications of it? Brooklyn swallowed a humorless laugh. As if Xanatos had morals.

He thought of Demona then, suddenly. He knew exactly what she would say to him if she were there and he pictured her like a small devil on his shoulder, whispering in his ear - that this was just another example of how evil and worthless humans were, how he should have helped her a long time ago to destroy them all. If he had, this wouldn't have happened. Lexington wouldn't be hurt, his heart wouldn't be in some biohazard waste bin somewhere. Brooklyn's upper lip raised in a snarl as he stared at Owen's back.

And then he thought of Goliath, because Goliath was the foundation of his entire being. His leader, his teacher, his friend. If Goliath were here, he would put a gentle hand through Brooklyn's hair and remind him that Xanatos was the exception, not the rule, just as Demona was.

The Goliath he imagined was just a ghost but he was comforted anyway.

Owen knocked at a door at the top of a long flight of stairs and with a verbal greeting on the other side he opened it, stepping stiffly aside so that Brooklyn could follow. Before he even acknowledged Xanatos behind the desk at the other end of the room, his eyes went to the wall of monitors on the left, because the largest one in the center showed his clan in the other room. Lexington was cradled in Hudson's arms, sobbing.

Brooklyn's stomach clenched. They were being watched every moment. He hadn't had a second of privacy since he walked into that goddamn castle. His anger was lit with a whole new flame and he whirled on Xanatos with eyes glowing.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your smug face off right now," Brooklyn said, every word a growl that vibrated in his chest.

"I can give you several." Xanatos tented his fingers and leaned back casually in his chair. "The very first being you couldn't if you tried."

"Would you bet your life on that?" Brooklyn's fingers hooked into vicious claws.

Xanatos chuckled and gestured to the screen, to the green gargoyle in the center. "Would you bet his?"

Brooklyn hesitated. His expression wrinkled, confused. "What are you talking about?"

The human chuckled. "We're getting ahead of ourselves." Xanatos leaned forward with elbows on the desk, trailing his eyes up and down Brooklyn like he was on display for him and him only.

"If you don't start talking right now, Xanatos -"

"You're not as patient as Goliath was." Xanatos sighed, disappointed. "You can't let me have one moment to enjoy this."

"Enjoy this?!" Brooklyn thrust a hand toward the monitor. "You set us up! You almost killed him!"

Xanatos watched Brooklyn bristle with glee in his eyes. "I just wanted to send a message. I wanted to give you a reminder."

Brooklyn stormed across the room, wings high and spread, and when he reached the desk he promptly put his fist through it. The wood cracked and splintered from the force, a long line reached toward Xanatos like a split in the sea. Brooklyn's eyes, two supernova stars, burned even bigger holes into Xanatos' face.

"You nearly killed a member of my clan to remind us that, what? That you're a colossal piece of shit?"

Xanatos laughed, planted both hands on the desk and stood until his nose was only inches from the tip of Brooklyn's beak. "You're fun. Almost as fun as Goliath. I have many reasons for the things I do, Brooklyn. Really, you should be more grateful. I'm the closest you gargoyles have to a god."

Brooklyn's wings audibly snapped as they spread. "You conceited son of a -"

"I gave you life." Xanatos grinned. "The only reason you stand before me now is because I lifted you high enough for the moon to breathe life into you again." His hand raised, fingertips almost reaching Brooklyn's cheek, but the gargoyle was faster. With a loud grunt he snatched the hand out of the air and twisted it, hard, until the muscles and bones strained with resistance. Xanatos' face flexed with pain but, somehow, his expression remained smug, even poised. His eyes briefly shifted over Brooklyn's shoulder - to Owen by the door. "It's all right, Owen. Besides, Brooklyn hasn't heard the best part yet." He bit his lip. "Well, the only thing that would make it better would be if Goliath was here, too."

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed into slits of light. "Talk, before I break your arm."

Xanatos chuckled. He fished into his shirt pocket with his free hand and pulled out a slim, black remote. He thumbed one of many buttons and Brooklyn's hold loosened.

This century with its goddamn buttons. It never meant anything good.

"I need the gargoyles who rightfully belong to me back in my pocket," Xanatos said. He gestured with his chin toward the monitor and pressed the button under his thumb.

Brooklyn turned and watched with horror as Lexington, curled close to the edge of the bed near Broadway, suddenly began to thrash. He jerked violently with his back arched from the mattress and eyes rolling into his head until they were only white. There was no sound on this end, but Lexington's mouth was wide open, and he could only imagine what sorts of terrible noises were coming out of it. Brooklyn watched Broadway and Hudson's faces mirror his own paralyzing fear.

"Stop," Brooklyn whimpered, tearing away from the screen. "Stop it!"

Xanatos' eyes were more wild than he had ever seen them. His grin curled impossibly wide before he finally pressed another button on the remote. Lexington crashed to the mattress, gasping, reaching out for the gargoyles beside him. They hovered over him, mouths moving fast. Lexington cried. Brooklyn fought his instinct to rush back to his flock, staring open-mouthed at Xanatos.

And humans thought they were the monsters?

"This is your reminder." Xanatos ripped his hand from Brooklyn's grip, repositioned it so he could cup the gargoyle by the beak. His fingers tightened. "You're _mine_. I let you run amok because it entertained me, but with Goliath gone it is a lot less interesting. I brought you back because I thought it would be fun. Now I intend to put the rest of you to better use." Xanatos' white teeth flashed. "The only reason you're alive is because I've allowed it. So when I call for you, you will come. Do you understand?"

If Brooklyn looked at him a moment more, Xanatos would be without a tongue. He whipped around and marched straight for the door. He needed distance, he needed sky. He needed Goliath.

He only paused because the other human wasn't where he had been standing. With a quick sweep, Brooklyn saw he wasn't even in the room. Immediately he turned for the monitor and spotted the tall blonde right away, arms out in an effort to calm the trio of gargoyles in front of him. He motioned to Lexington, to the screen on the wall behind him. Whatever he said relaxed the two larger gargoyles, but Lexington balled the sheets in his fists.

"I didn't specify to Dracon which gargoyle to hit, just that he hit at least one."

Brooklyn's eyes flashed in Xanatos' direction.

The human smiled back. "I'm glad it wasn't you."

* * *

"This is not a wise decision," Owen said - again - from the other side of Lexington's bed.

Brooklyn slipped an arm under Lex's knees. "Don't care."

"Another day of observation would be best," Owen continued. He eyed the monitor on the wall.

"You've done enough observing today." Brooklyn shifted Lexington more comfortably against his chest. It was already past three and Brooklyn was the only one who had left the room since they woke. Owen had hooked up Lexington to all kinds of machines, monitoring his new heart, making sure it wouldn't try to 'reject' like it had earlier in the evening. Brooklyn bit his tongue. Lying to the clan felt about as natural as leaving them.

"Besides, we can keep an eye on him just fine." Hudson crossed his arms and stood at Owen's side, fully prepared to knock him on his ass if he needed to. His hand hovered by the handle of the sword at his hip.

Owen looked at the gargoyle from only the very corners of his glasses. "And if something happens?"

"Then we'll bring him back," Broadway said. He was the only one of the clan who did not seem like leaving was the best course of action. He watched Lexington like he was suddenly made of porcelain, like he would shatter if Brooklyn didn't hold him just right.

Lexington, on the other hand, seemed the most eager to get out of the castle. His arms wrapped tightly around Brooklyn's neck, wings tucked close, head resting against his leader's collarbone. He was already out of breath. "I want to leave. Now. You can't make me stay."

Lexington said the words to Owen, but Brooklyn glanced over his shoulder where he knew the camera was, knowing Xanatos was listening to every word. He hadn't noticed the black orb on the ceiling before - stupid, Goliath would have - but now he made sure Xanatos, who he knew was watching every second of this, could see the anger in his face.

Brooklyn carried Lexington out of the room with Hudson and Broadway at his heels. He half cocooned the gargoyle in his arms with his wings to shield him from the harsh white lights of the main room. Lexington turned his face into Brooklyn's chest.

"Brooklyn," Broadway whispered, coming up close enough to talk low in his leader's ear. "What if it happens again? You didn't see him, it - it was scary." Broadway swallowed hard.

Brooklyn blinked once and he saw it all over again in the pixels of that mammoth monitor in Xanatos' office. He said nothing.

"It was just a reaction to the machine." Lexington's words were muffled against Brooklyn's skin, but the tone of disbelief was still audible.

Brooklyn knew that Lexington was smart - smarter than him - and he would eventually figure this out on his own. The only choices Brooklyn had in the matter was how soon and if Lexington would treat him like a traitor when he did. The inevitable conversation sat on Brooklyn's shoulders so heavily he felt like he'd fall right through the floor.

Hudson pushed open the double doors at the end of the main room. The sky spilled in and Brooklyn and his clan sighed at the sight of it, a family of caged birds finally set free. They stepped into the night and Lexington turned to face it, the stars dusting his eyes like he was a hatchling and it was the first time.

"I've been itchin' to get rid of this place since we got here." Hudson flexed his wings as they stepped onto the ledge. He looked back over his shoulder, eyes crawling over the stone of the castle exterior like the very walls couldn't be trusted. "It certainly isn't home anymore, is it?"

Brooklyn often forgot that Hudson had lived an entire life in that castle before he was even born. He listened to the wind catch on the wings of his clan but he lingered a moment more on the ledge, waiting for Xanatos to suddenly appear in the doorway with a threat in his mouth, for Lexington to seize in his arms. Fear and panic and unknowing and anger, so much anger, coiled in his gut and burned him from the inside out.

A cool, careful hand at his cheek soothed him. He turned to meet Lexington's eyes.

"Are you okay?" Lex asked, as if he wasn't the one who had been shot, as if he wasn't the only one with a good enough reason to not be okay.

Brooklyn smiled. It cracked at the edges. "You're okay, so I'm okay." He kissed him, spread his wings, and dropped into the clouds.

* * *

When they arrived at the clocktower, they all pretended to not be disappointed that Goliath and Elisa and Bronx were not waiting for them.

Brooklyn settled Lexington into the chair in front of the TV and locked it into the reclined position. He found a blanket in one of the closets and by the time he returned to drape it over Lexington's form, the smaller gargoyle was half asleep. He sat with him for a while, watching him doze. Gargoyles did not believe in any gods that he knew of, but he thanked all the ones he could name.

After a while he went out on the balcony. Hudson and Broadway were in deep conversation, the older with his arm around the younger, comforting each other. They both looked back when Brooklyn emerged and offered broken, soft smiles. Both of them looked more weary than he had ever seen them.

He thought about telling them everything, about Lexington's heart, about the puppeteer behind it all. He wondered if Broadway would feel better or worse knowing it was all an elaborate trap. He wondered if he would be able to stop Hudson's anger from taking over him like Goliath used to.

Would Goliath have told?

He sat on the other side of Hudson and leaned against his arm. They looked out across the sea of city lights in silence.

Goliath wasn't here. And for all he knew, Goliath was never coming back. It didn't matter now what Goliath would do. What was _Brooklyn_ going to do?

Brooklyn could feel the fragility of his clan in his heart. Every breath felt dangerous. There was a human saying Elisa had explained to him once: the straw that broke the camel's back. He thought he remembered what a camel was - some kind of desert horse, from what he could recall - but that was irrelevant. This was relevant: his clan, and how one more tragedy could send them all over the edge. How he'd go right down with them.

Brooklyn took a deep breath, held it, and bit his tongue.

It became clear within the first few days that leaving Lexington alone for any extended period of time was to be avoided at all costs. Several times a day, one of the gargoyles had to physically pry Lexington's hands away from his chest to keep him from digging at the scars. He claimed they itched, but Lexington refused to look Brooklyn in the eyes when he said it. Eventually they wrapped him in ace bandages, from under his armpits to the bottom of his sternum, and not with his blessing. If they didn't keep their eyes on him constantly, they would soon hear the sound of his claws tearing the bandages away and sinking into his flesh.

"It's not going to heal right if you keep doing that," Brooklyn told him, one wing swaddled around his figure like a baby. Lexington had yet to get up from the recliner - Brooklyn would not let him - and so he rested, defeated, in Brooklyn's arms. Brooklyn knew that fatigue still plagued him and the only reason he wanted to get up was to prove that he was strong. Brooklyn turned his head to rest his mouth against Lexington's temple. Lex didn't have to prove anything to anyone. They all knew how strong he was.

The smaller gargoyle stared at the ceiling with one palm flattened over his bandages. His fingers flexed at Brooklyn's words and he turned away with a sigh that made him feel impossibly heavier in Brooklyn's lap.

"You don't understand." Lexington frowned. "It doesn't belong."

Brooklyn flinched as if he were struck. His wing tightened around Lexington and one hand gently flattened across Lexington's hand. He pulled it away, brought it to his beak, and placed a warm, soft kiss in the center of his palm. He could feel the tense muscles in Lexington's back become smooth again, if just for a few moments, across the sensitive flesh of his wing.

"It's just a muscle," Brooklyn whispered against Lex's ear. The clocktower was quiet and dark and they were alone for a few precious minutes - Broadway and Hudson were on a very brief patrol, since Brooklyn would not allow anything more (he told them it was temporary, but he had never been a good liar). They had barely been gone a quarter of an hour and already Brooklyn could feel a terrible knot building in his throat. A thousand terrible images seared his brain like a brand, each one more horrible than the one before it. The only thing keeping him from flying out the door to desperately search for them was Lexington, who held him to the chair like an anchor.

"That's easy for you to say. It's not your muscle we're talking about." Lexington's voice sounded muffled in Brooklyn's neck. "He might as well have cut my wings off. What's a gargoyle without wings? What's a gargoyle without a heart?"

Brooklyn shut his eyes. Lexington's words hurt him in ways he would have never guessed could ache."Coldstone is more than half machine. Would you tell him he's not a gargoyle?"

Lexington's mouth opened against Brooklyn's neck and then shut with no words. He pulled away and tried to sit up, grunting with the effort, and Brooklyn quickly shifted to stop him. "I'm fine," Lexington quipped, voice sharp. He stared hard at his knees as he slowly straightened them out. Brooklyn eased his wing out from behind him so they could sit shoulder to shoulder. Lexington's face remained blank, but Brooklyn knew that face well enough to see the smallest of ripples at the edges. He could see the pain draining him even if Lexington refused to admit it. "Coldstone is different. His heart is still there."

"We don't know what's still there, what was replaced by Xanatos and what wasn't -"

"Coldstone feels things!" Lexington covered his face with his hands. "He had enough heart for three people in one body."

Brooklyn frowned and took Lexington carefully by the arm. "Lex. Listen. What do you call this, right now? You are feeling. You're always having feelings. Look at me. Lexington. Look." Brooklyn cupped the other gargoyle's face in his palms and used his thumbs to disrupt the stream of tears pouring from his eyes. "You love me, don't you?"

Lexington's lower lip trembled. "How do I know?"

"Oh, Lex." Brooklyn carefully pulled the boy into his chest and worked his wings around him like a cocoon. Lexington sobbed so hard his breath came in sharp hiccups, and Brooklyn hated Xanatos in that moment more than he ever had. His clan did not deserve this, not after a one thousand year curse. Lexington did not deserve this, not after coming so close to death. "You know how you've always known. The only thing you lost was flesh. You're alive, Lex." Brooklyn spread his hand across Lexington's long, vertical scar. "You're more than just flesh."

"I'm so scared," Lexington whimpered. "What if it just stops working? What if what happened at the castle happens again? What if -" He swallowed, trying to find the words, his talons digging unconsciously into Brooklyn's chest like he was clinging to the edge of something out of fear of falling. "What if Xanatos just - just turns it off?"

Brooklyn paled. His wings and arms tightened around Lexington's form. "That's not possible," he lied, so quickly and so easily he stunned himself.

"You and I both know it is very, very possible. You and I both know that Xanatos is capable of so much more than we understand." Lexington's breathing began to climb in his panic. It came in and out of his teeth like a strong, constant hissing. "He could have put anything inside of me with this - this mechanical heart. What if he's spying on us? Through me? What if he's tracking us? What if he's listening to us right now, right inside me?"

"Lexington. Calm down." Brooklyn's head was spinning. He held onto Lex too tightly, pulling away so he could try and find his eyes. "I know you're scared but you need to calm down."

"Why?!" Lexington almost shrieked, shoving Brooklyn's arms away from him. He clawed himself off of the recliner to his feet for the first time in days and did not have the strength to keep himself standing. Brooklyn leaped to catch him but was too late; the small gargoyle crumpled like a doll to the floor with a gasp of pain. With one hand over his sternum, he stared up at Brooklyn, eyes wet. "Because you think it will stop working, too? That if I stress it too much it'll just give up on me-!"

"I don't know!" Brooklyn stood over Lexington, panting, hands grasping at his hair. "I don't know, Lex!" His eyes burned and he screwed them shut. He didn't realize his knees had given out on him until they smacked against the stone floor. The pain was welcome, distracting, but only for a moment. Brooklyn bowed until his forehead met the ground and he didn't try to keep himself from crying anymore.

He was not worthy enough to stand where Goliath had. Goliath would never break like this. Not in front of the clan, if at all. He was stronger. He was better.

And he was gone.

Brooklyn balled his hand into a fist and brought it down so hard on the ground that the stone fractured. In his peripherals, Lexington jumped.

For several long, agonizing minutes, they stayed like that, together but separate in their own suffering, neither fully understanding the other but wanting to so desperately. There might as well have been a crater miles wide between them and although they were both willing to cross it, they weren't sure if they had the strength - not as these people, these strangers they had become since Goliath disappeared.

Brooklyn pushed himself back on his knees, fingers pressed to his eyes, and Lexington crossed his legs and stared at nothing, and neither spoke. The silence was thick and foreign. Brooklyn could not think of a time when he felt alien in the presence of any member of his clan.

He was a ghost in a house he had never called home.

"Brooklyn?"

The word was spoken so quietly but Brooklyn jumped anyway. He lowered his hand and met Lexington's eyes.

"You have to tell me." Lexington inched closer and when he was close enough for Brooklyn to reach out and touch he did so like it was a law of physics that could not be broken. His wing folded around the green gargoyle as the smaller one straddled his lap. "You have to tell me if Xanatos tampered with the heart he put in me." His hands rested on either side of Brooklyn's face, forbidding him from looking at anything else. "Because if you lie to me and I find out, I will never - I will never forgive you."

Brooklyn's tongue turned to sand. His beak parted, closed, opened again.

Lexington's eyes were more severe than Brooklyn could ever remember. They were also more empty, more lost, more sad than they ever should be. It broke his heart. He tried to imagine just how much more broken Lexington's would be if Brooklyn willingly, openly lied to him about this.

He knew Lexington meant what he said. Brooklyn knew the depth of Lexington's grudges - his feelings toward the Pack, months after their initial betrayal, was more than enough proof - but this was in an entirely different league. This was clan. This was family. This was the leader of it all.

For the first time since he disappeared, Brooklyn knew what Goliath would do if he was here, if it was Lexington asking him for the truth; he would tell, because Lexington deserved it.

"It's been tampered with." Brooklyn's jaw ached as he brought his teeth together. He covered Lexington's hands with his own and held the other's eyes, as much as it hurt him to watch the color drain from his face. "That shock you had in the castle, that was Xanatos. He wanted to prove to me that he could hurt you if I didn't do what he said."

Lexington's hands slipped from Brooklyn's face and dropped in his lap. He stared at Brooklyn's chest. They both knew that Lexington had somehow had an idea of this already but that was another thing entirely from hearing it out loud.

"He said he wanted his gargoyles back in his pocket … like he owns us, or something." Brooklyn's eyes narrowed at the ground. Once the floodgates opened, he found it hard to shut them again. "He seemed off, somehow. Less … collected than usual. This seems radical, even for him." He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I don't know what else he's done to the heart. I don't think replacing your heart was part of the plan, so I don't know just how much he messed with it -"

"He planned this." Lexington's mouth hung open. He stared at Brooklyn like he had never seen him before. "Xanatos planned to have me shot."

Brooklyn shook his head. "Just one of us. He said he didn't specify to Dracon which. I think he just wanted one of us wounded enough to go to him so we would owe him a favor. I think Dracon did more damage than Xanatos intended."

"And it turned into an even better opportunity to screw with us."

Brooklyn nodded sullenly. He let the truth hang there for a minute, settling between them, shortening the crater. Then Brooklyn stood, helped Lexington to his feet, and put him back in the recliner. Lexington did not argue. He pulled the blanket over himself and put a hand over where his heart used to be and closed his eyes.

"We have to tell the others," he said quietly. Brooklyn knelt beside the chair and put a hand over Lex's head.

"I'm worried about Broadway. He already feels so guilty." Brooklyn swept his thumb back and forth over Lexington's forehead. "This is all my fault."

Lexington shook his head. "I jumped in front of the bullet."

"I led us into a trap."

"Dracon pulled the trigger." Lexington opened his eyes, met Brooklyn's. "And Xanatos pulled the strings." He sighed deeply and shook his head. "Goliath was always better at rationalizing this kind of stuff, wasn't he?"

Brooklyn's heart ached. "Yeah." He turned at the distant sound of feet touching down on the balcony outside. Hudson and Broadway had returned. "We'll tell them. Tomorrow." Brooklyn whispered, kissing Lexington's forehead, lingering there for a minute.

"Okay." Lexington reached out and pressed the flat of his palm to Brooklyn's chest. Brooklyn did not ask and Lexington did not have to explain; they both knew he was feeling Brooklyn's heartbeat, a steady tempo in their world of chaos.


	5. Chapter 5

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: blood, violence, mild and brief torture.

* * *

Chapter Five

Day ninety marks three months since Goliath and Elisa and Bronx disappeared. Brooklyn tried to stop keeping track but the numbers came as naturally to him as breathing. Every evening when the stone fell from his skin, another tally carved itself on his heart. Three months seemed so significant, like he and the rest of the clan should be well adjusted to the absence of their leader and their friends, at the very least adjusted in some way. When they awoke from their thousand year curse it had not taken them this long to move forward - but there was no question as to what had happened, there were no lingering 'what-ifs'. They all mourned in their own way and they did so with certainty.

There was no certainty here. Three months didn't mean jack shit. It just meant that ninety terrible days passed and each one worse than the one before.

Brooklyn sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the balcony. Below him, tiny yellow lights crawled down a thin strip of road like toys on a child's carpet map. (He had obviously never owned such a thing but he had seen one in a shop window once. As hatchlings they had played with something vaguely similar but with rocks to mimic horses instead of cars and on lines drawn crudely in the dirt instead of perfectly replicated highways in fabric. Sometimes he saw little human children and saw shadows of his rookery brothers and sisters when they were small). He could taste winter in the wind, could feel the nights gradually becoming longer. Any time before this awful present, the clan looked forward to more hours of the night to spend awake and together. Now it just seemed like another slap in the face.

He looked up at the stars. He wondered what they had done to anger the universe so much.

In a few minutes, Broadway and Hudson would be returning from their restricted patrol. Brooklyn only allowed them ten minutes to do a quick sweep and they were only permitted a few blocks distance from the clocktower. He watched the ticking hands on the face of it strictly, and scolded them both, even his elder, if they came back late. The only other time he had been letting either of them leave since Xanatos' castle was to find food. He could tell that they were both becoming annoyed with him, that they didn't so much want to patrol as they wanted to just fly and get away from the depressing cave the clocktower had become (Brooklyn understood, Brooklyn wanted to escape into the sky every second of every day) but he couldn't help himself. If they were out of his sight then anything could happen and he couldn't stop it. He needed them close. He needed them always.

Elisa told him once that some humans keep birds as pets and clip their wings so they can't fly. He wondered if they had ever felt like this - like both the owner and the pet, at the same time.

"Brooklyn?"

He whirled. "Lexington, you shouldn't be up."

The smaller gargoyle made a face. With the blanket draped over his shoulders and held together at his chest, he stepped out under the sky. "I'm getting claustrophobic in there."

Brooklyn threw his legs out from over the balcony and quickly closed the space between them. Lexington shoved his leader's helping hands away, insisting that he was fine, and walked slowly all the way to the ledge. The blanket billowed behind him like a cape. Brooklyn hovered close to his side and watched gooesbumps build across the globe of his bald head.

"We gotta tell them today, Brooklyn. We have to do something about this." Lexington didn't look at his rookery brother when he spoke. His fingers absently picked at the ace bandages wrapped securely around his torso and Brooklyn carefully pushed them away as if it were as natural as a reflex. He had probably done it a thousand times already.

Brooklyn shook his head. "What can we do?"

Lexington's jaw flexed. "I don't know. Something. We can't just let him use me as leverage for the rest of our lives."

Brooklyn sat heavily on the ledge again. He stared at his hands. "This is your heart we're talking about. It's not like we can build you a substitute. And even if we could, it's not like we could put it in you. Believe me, I have looked at this from every angle a hundred times. There's no way to fix this."

"So we're just going to let Xanatos hold a gun to my head? Forever?" Lexington drew the blanket more tightly over his shoulders. "Some life that'll be."

Brooklyn sighed. As if the life they had been living between then and Goliath's disappearance had been much to look at.

"I'm telling them. It's in my body. I'm the one who has to carry this time bomb around. And I want them to know, because maybe they'll be more willing to help me."

Lexington's tone was sharp and Brooklyn flinched. "I'm sorry. You know I want that thing out of you as much as you do. But I don't … I don't want Xanatos to hurt you. I'm telling you, there's something seriously wrong with him -"

"We knew that already," Lexington grumbled.

"No, I mean something is really, really off. I don't know what, but -"

"Does it matter?" Lex deflated with a sigh. "I don't care about his reasons. He did this to me. We can't let him get away with it."

Brooklyn lifted his head and stared at Lexington's determined profile, the hard line of his jaw, his fierce eyes. It was the most strength he had seen in him in days. Smiling softly, Brooklyn stood, gathering the smaller gargoyle into his arms. "You're so brave," he whispered, rocking slowly back and forth on his feet. "You're my hero, you know that?"

Lexington scoffed. "Yeah, well. I got shot. I better be."

"I'll make a medal for you."

The noise Lexington made almost sounded like a laugh. And then he flinched suddenly, half bent at the waist. Brooklyn yanked his hands away, afraid he had hurt him somehow.

He put a gentle hand on Lexington's back. "Are you okay?"

Lexington brushed him away, readjusting the blanket across his shoulders as he straightened his back. One hand rubbed at the space over his heart. "Yeah. I'm just cold. Let's go inside."

Brooklyn swept him back into the recliner inside the clocktower. By then, Broadway and Hudson were two minutes late, and he waited at the doorway like some peeved parent ready to ground their child for breaking curfew. When the two gargoyles eventually appeared at the balcony ledge, the two extremes of feeling relief at them being all right and being angry that they had forced him to imagine their deaths a hundred different ways made Brooklyn's head pound.

"Sorry, lad," Hudson said as they entered the clocktower. His head fell forward, chin against his chest. "It's a beautiful night. Wanted to enjoy it for a bit." The smile he offered Brooklyn was wistful and apologetic and Brooklyn's frustration waned until it was soft enough to brush away. He understood completely. He wanted to melt into the beautiful night and never have to worry about anything again, too.

But worrying was a part of his job now. He wondered not for the first time since Goliath's disappearance why he had fought with Lexington and Broadway over who was going to be second when Goliath was first considering. Whatever the appeal had been back then he couldn't begin to fathom now.

"We have to talk to you guys about something," Brooklyn said, gesturing toward Lexington in the recliner. The small gargoyle had snuck his fingers under the bandages and was mindlessly scratching at his scars. Brooklyn's sharp look made him jerk them away.

"You guys are going to want to sit down," Lexington said, and stared at the blanket draped over his legs instead of the clan. Brooklyn made his way over to him and sat gingerly on the arm of the chair, one hand on Lex's shoulder.

Hudson and Broadway exchanged pained, frightened looks. "What?" Broadway prompted, staring between Brooklyn and Lexington with wide eyes. His breathing had already begun to quicken.

"Take it easy, son." Hudson placed a hand on Broadway's back. "What is it you have to tell us?"

"Really, you guys are going to want to sit -"

Broadway shook his head. "No. What's going on?"

Lexington chewed on his lip. The strength and determination Brooklyn had seen in his face out on the balcony just a few minutes prior was replaced instead with uncertainty. He looked at Hudson and Broadway like they were suddenly made of glass, like he was about to shatter them with the force of his words.

They had all been pushed to their limits already. Eventually, something would knock them all over the edge and it was impossible to tell what that would be.

Lexington turned to his leader, lost, and Brooklyn knew what he was being asked without words being spoken. With a short nod, he squeezed Lex's shoulder and looked at the rest of his fractured clan.

"Xanatos tricked us," Brooklyn began, and the truth came out of him more easily than he had imagined it would. As much as he hated having to put more burden and worry on their shoulders, it helped to not have it all on his own. He watched their faces morph into a series of intense emotions in a matter of just a few minutes - shock, disgust, anger, and fear - until Broadway's went completely blank and Hudson's twisted into fury. Brooklyn was not sure which was more frightening.

When Hudson threw his fist into a wall and roared, eyes beaming, Lexington began to cry. Brooklyn, torn between the two, looked to Broadway for help, but the other gargoyle was barely present - his eyes were sad. Vacant. Brooklyn felt his stomach drop.

His precious, vibrant Broadway was fading right before his eyes like a wilting flower without the sun.

Broadway turned his hands over and stared at the open palms in silence. Beside him, Hudson raged and punctuated his profanities with his fist in the wall. The stone broke apart and gave way to a small crater. Hudson's knuckles cracked from the blows and left blood in their wake.

"Hudson, stop." Brooklyn tried to grab Hudson by the arm but the larger gargoyle shrugged away from him.

"I'm going to kill 'im! I'm going to do what we should've done a long time ago and kill the bastard!" Hudson tore the sword from his belt and held it in front of him like Xanatos was right there in the room, waiting to be challenged. "He doesn't deserve the air he breathes! If this sword was made for anythin'," he growled, shaking the weapon in his grip, "It was puttin' that sorry excuse for a man down like the beast he is."

Brooklyn had only seen Hudson this far gone into his rage a few times before and always Goliath knew what to say to bring him back from the edge, back to himself. Goliath had never been afraid of Hudson's temper or his fury. But, god, Brooklyn was. He flinched away from his elder, looked at Lexington trembling on the chair, searched for Broadway only to find him moving robotically toward the door.

Everything was falling apart so quickly and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it.

Goliath had made a mistake choosing him.

Fuck Goliath.

The terrible, poisonous thought caught him so off guard that Brooklyn nearly lost his balance. He held himself up by the wall and clamped his eyes shut as a sudden, awful anger - no, a hatred - boiled his blood.

None of this would have happened if Goliath and Elisa and Bronx had not disappeared. Lexington would never have been shot. He wouldn't have a bomb in his chest. Broadway wouldn't be drowning in guilt, Hudson in anger. The clan wouldn't be broken and bleeding and so very, very lost.

It was Goliath's fault, all of this. And Brooklyn hated him for it.

Brooklyn let his legs fail him. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and cried with his back to the wall and his knees drawn to his chest. He wasn't strong enough for this. He couldn't do this without Goliath. He certainly couldn't do this cursing Goliath's ghost. They would all be missing a fundamental part of themselves if they abandoned his memory now.

Brooklyn's breath caught in his throat. He could not remember who he was before all of this. With more effort than should be necessary, he pulled his head out of his hands and looked at the two quiet, somber gargoyles before him.

He hardly recognized them, either.

"Brooklyn. Son. I'm sorry," Hudson said, voice cracked, extending a shaking hand toward the crumpled boy on the ground. Brooklyn took it and was yanked to his feet and into Hudson's embrace in one fluid motion. A hand clapped against his back. "I didn't mean to scare ya like that."

Brooklyn tried and failed to keep himself from shaking. His throat was too tight for words so he just shook his head in Hudson's neck and focused on breathing but even such a simple task proved difficult.

"We'll figure this out. We'll figure this out," Hudson whispered, rubbing Brooklyn's spine. He did not sound convinced and Brooklyn did not believe him but the words were comforting all the same.

"Where's Broadway?" Brooklyn asked when he finally pulled away from Hudson, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. Lexington gestured weakly toward the door. His eyes were ringed red and bleary, his face was stained with tear tracks. "Lex, hey. It's alright." Brooklyn came up to him and held the smaller gargoyle's face in his hands. "You need to get some rest. I'm going to get Broadway."

"Let him have a minute." Hudson dropped heavily in a chair, sighing hard. "I definitely need a minute."

"He shouldn't be alone right now," Lexington mumbled, and Brooklyn nodded. Broadway's empty face flashed in front of his eyes. He blinked hard to make the image disappear.

"I'll be right back." Brooklyn kissed Lexington on the forehead before slipping away. Making his way up the stairs and to the door, he glanced back before opening it. Hudson had his hand on Lexington's shoulder, talking low and warm and soft. The anger that had consumed Hudson a moment ago was replaced instead with tenderness and love. For a moment, Brooklyn felt hopeful, because as long as they could always come back to their true selves, then maybe they would be some shade of okay, in time. As long as they did not forget who they really were, then hope remained.

The tormenting thoughts of anger toward Goliath - of hating Goliath - felt far away and so foreign, like a stranger had put them in his head. It seemed almost like a violation but in a way Brooklyn was relieved at the idea - if they weren't his own, he did not have to feel guilty for having them.

His thoughts turned to Broadway on the other side of the door. His rookery brother had not reacted in the way he had been expecting; he had been waiting for anger - nowhere near the scale of Hudson's, but anger to some degree. Guilt. What he had seen, however, was every emotion Broadway had ever felt draining out of his body like an open wound, and that was unexpected, and far, far worse.

Broadway embodied laughter and kindness and empathy. He had seen not a single trace of that in his face a few minutes ago.

Brooklyn took a deep breath, tried to think of what he was going to say to Broadway to bring him back to himself, and could come up with nothing. Regardless, he knew had to try. He opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. "Broadway?"

He looked left, then right, and his heart hit the floor.

Broadway wasn't there.

"Broadway!" Brooklyn rushed to the banister. His eyes pried through the darkness. "Broadway!"

"What's the matter?" Hudson appeared at his side and close behind came Lexington, still wrapped in his blanket.

"He's gone." Brooklyn spun in a circle, head tilted back, trying to catch the outline of Broadway's figure in the sky.

"He probably just needs to cool off. There's no reason to get upset, lad -"

"Yes there is," Brooklyn snapped, shrugging out from under Hudson's hand. "For all we know, Xanatos is out there waiting for one of us to get far enough away from the tower so he can snatch us up again. Why do you think I don't want you guys patrolling?" He planted his foot on the banister. "I'm going to find him."

"Brooklyn, you can't keep us from ever leaving the clocktower again -" Lexington started, but his mouth clicked shut when Brooklyn whirled on him, eyes glowing white.

"Yes I can. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I failed you once, Lexington. I won't fail again." He spread his wings with purpose, heart pounding. "You two get inside and stay there until I come back. If Broadway comes back before I do, don't let him leave."

Hudson reached for him. "Lad, calm down-"

"Stop!" Brooklyn turned on his toes, balanced on just the edge. "I'm going to bring him home and we're going to stay together from now on, like a clan should be. No more patrols. No more leaving each other. No one else is going to get hurt while I'm in charge."

Terrible, awful scenes played out in his head. Broadway shot. Broadway bleeding. Broadway dying. Tortured and mutilated and broken. Dead, dead, dead.

He faced the city below him and was suddenly so dizzy he didn't trust himself to glide. What if he just fell like stone through the air and let the ground rush up to meet him?

Brooklyn's breath caught in his throat because the idea did not scare him. This, all of this, scared him much more.

"Get back inside," he growled to the other gargoyles, spreading his wings. "I'm going to bring him back -"

"No need."

Brooklyn, Hudson, and Lexington all turned as one body toward the voice at the other end of the balcony and, collectively, their jaws dropped open.

Broadway, like a mirror of Brooklyn, stood on the ledge on the opposite side of the terrace. His face was all shadow from the clocktower, sharp and jagged edges that made him look more animal than gargoyle. Seeing his naturally gentle expression warped into such intense anger was not what frightened Brooklyn the most. It was what he gripped tightly in his hand.

Broadway's massive fist held Tony Dracon upside down by the ankle. The human swung limply in the air, unconscious, until Broadway suddenly released him and let him fall in a heap on the stone of the platform.

"I'm home," Broadway said. His voice shook Brooklyn's very bones.

Brooklyn tried to speak but his mind was blank. He stared down at Dracon. The face of the clocktower shed light over his features, the blood coming from his crushed nose, the deep red mark across his cheekbone - approximately the length of Broadway's knuckles.

He dropped heavily off the ledge and stared between the human and his rookery brother. "Broadway," he said, grasping at anything else and coming up empty.

"If we can't make Xanatos pay for what he did to Lexington, then he will." Broadway kicked Dracon hard in the back. He groaned, eyes flickering under the lids. "Someone has to." Broadway turned to Lexington. For a moment, softness eclipsed his eyes. "You deserve to be avenged, Lex."

"What are - what are you going to do to him?" Lexington's voice was barely a whisper. He had lost his grip on the blanket; it pooled to the ground around his feet.

"Whatever you want. This is your revenge, Lexington."

"Broadway," Brooklyn tried again. His tongue felt heavy, his throat closed. He shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Dracon because the more he looked at him, the more he imagined all of the awful things he would like to do to him, the more he could focus on nothing but making him suffer the way Lexington had. "Goliath would not want this," he said, voice strained to cracking.

"Goliath isn't here!" Broadway roared, gesturing out to the empty darkness around him. "Goliath is gone, Brooklyn!" He turned in a circle with his head craned to the sky and laughed, something low and sad and broken. "Goliath and Elisa and Bronx are as good as dead."

"Don't say that!" Hudson barked, a sob in his throat. "We don't know where they've gone but it don't mean that they're - that they're dead-"

"I'm leader!" Brooklyn interrupted with a cut of his hand in the air. "I decide what we do as a clan!"

"And what is it going to be, then?" Broadway slammed his foot once again into Dracon's back. The human fought for consciousness, bracing his hands on the ground and trying to prop himself up. His hazy eyes struggled to focus on the gargoyles around him. "Are you going to let the man who shot Lexington get away with it? With no consequences? The same man who hurt Elisa? Me?" Broadway reached down and grabbed Dracon by the white stripe of his hair. He held him high, until only the tips of Dracon's feet brushed the ground. He was missing a single shoe. The man reached blindly for the hand that held him, trying to weakly twist out of the grip. Broadway didn't so much as glance at him. "This scum doesn't deserve to live, Brooklyn. He funnels guns and drugs and crooks into this city, our home. He works for Xanatos. He almost killed Lexington. What is he good for, huh? What is he good for?!"

"Shut up!" Lexington cried, fists on his temples, hunched over. "All of you, shut up!"

They did. Brooklyn deflated at the sight of Lexington with tears streaming down his face, shaking, and tried to wrap his arms around him but the smaller gargoyle pushed him away. The sharp edges of his talons raked across his smooth head as he stared at Dracon, who began to struggle with more force in Broadway's grip. He spat on the ground, a large glob of saliva and blood.

"If you freaks don't let me go," Dracon panted, his hands wound around Broadway's wrist over his head. "You will regret it."

"Oh yeah?" Broadway gave Dracon a violent shake. "Are your boys going to come after me like they did when I scooped you right out of your pathetic little hideout? Because if you forgot, they were all as knocked out as you were just a few minutes ago."

Brooklyn blinked hard, saw a dozen bodies beaten to the ground with Broadway in the center of it all. The image was so unlike his gentle brother that it made him sick.

Who were they becoming? When - if - Goliath ever came back, would he even recognize them?

Dracon laughed. It sounded wrong coming from out of his swollen lips and broken nose. "I was hoping it would be you," he sneered at Broadway, turning his head as much as he could with the gargoyles' fingers in his hair. "You've been a pain in my ass since day one. I didn't get my payback on Maza, so I thought I could at least get it on you. Xanatos offered me a lot of money to take one of you down. I almost did it for free." He grinned. Blood coated his teeth. "But your boyfriend had to go all heroic. I bet that hurt even worse, didn't it?"

Broadway abruptly let go. Dracon's feet had barely met the ground before Broadway's fist connected with the underside of his chin. With a loud clack of his teeth, Dracon fell backwards, all of the breath crushed out of him.

"Lex!" Broadway called, coming forward until he stood over Dracon at his full height, large and dangerous, with purpose. "It's your call," he said.

"No." Brooklyn stood in front of Lexington. "It is not his call -"

"Yes it is." Lexington shoved Brooklyn out of the way. He smacked one hand against his chest and in one swift motion, tore the ace bandages from his chest. The wind pulled the shreds into the air and they all looked at the deep purple scar down Lexington's sternum and the bullet shaped pocket next to it. "He did this to me. I'm the one with the fake heart." Lexington stared at each of his rookery brothers with damp eyes. "Broadway is right," he said, focusing on Brooklyn, pleading. "I deserve to be avenged."

"You're not dead, son." Hudson reached for Lexington's shoulder, but the younger pulled away. "Think of what Goliath would say. That every life is precious. That an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." He smiled weakly through his tears. "Or somethin' else from one of his precious books."

Lexington shook his head. "This isn't a book, Hudson. This is real life. This is our life. My body. My revenge." He looked at Dracon trying to catch his breath on the ground. Lex took a few steps forward, just close enough that he could meet Dracon's eyes properly. "He doesn't even feel guilty for what he did to me."

Dracon threw his head back with roaring laughter. "You slimy little reptile, I'd do it again if I could. I'd do it a hundred times!"

Brooklyn could barely hear over the sound of his heart in his ears. This wasn't right. Dracon was defenseless, alone, trapped on a high tower surrounded by angry gargoyles with more than enough reason to kill him. Why was he egging them on? Why was he practically begging them to hurt him? His mind raced to connect dots that he couldn't find, didn't understand.

"Throw him over," Lexington said, voice hollow.

"No, Broadway -" Brooklyn took a step forward but Lexington whipped around and shoved him back.

"You don't get to make this decision! You didn't get shot! You didn't get your heart ripped out!" Lexington's fists slammed into Brooklyn's chest. "Just stay out of it!"

"He's going to drop me!" Dracon called out, once again tangled by the hair in Broadway's fingers. His bravado shattered; now there was nothing in his face but fear. "He's going to drop me!"

Brooklyn grabbed Lexington by the shoulders. Who was Dracon talking to?

"Broadway!" Hudson jumped forward. Dracon's feet caught on the ledge of the balcony.

"Now! Now!" Dracon cried.

Lexington pried himself out of Brooklyn's grip and turned to watch Broadway give him his revenge. Brooklyn felt Broadway's guilt and his terrible, awful satisfaction at having Dracon's life in his very hands cover it up. He felt Hudson's panic and fear swallowing every gentle thing in his heart. He felt Lexington's deep pain destroying anything good left in him. Something colossal was happening before his eyes, like the shifting of tectonic plates before an earthquake, the wild winds that brought life to a hurricane. Except there was nothing natural about this. This all felt staged. Fake. Brooklyn looked at each of them in slow motion and he did not know who this clan was anymore.

When his clan looked at him, did they know who he was?

Brooklyn looked at his hands. They did not feel like his own.

He could not deny that he, too, wanted to watch Dracon fall.

Helpless, lost, he gave in because he could not conjure the strength to fight anymore, and he could not find it in himself to even pretend that he wanted to. He looked at Dracon and wanted him dead. Dracon deserved a fate much worse than this. Their small, fractured clan had earned the right to take out their pain on someone like him.

He had to believe that this was justified. Somehow.

So he waited for the inevitable fall. He waited for them all to become shadows of the people he loved.

But something shifted. The world stopped spinning for just a moment. The stars burned brighter.

And then a loud, terrible scream.

It was not Dracon's.

Reality snapped back into place as if it had been stretched like a rubber band. Brooklyn came back to himself, gasping - he saw Broadway on the ledge with Dracon still clasped by the hair, he saw Hudson frozen a few feet away. The screaming made his ears ring. He followed the sound to his feet.

Lexington writhed on the ground like a fish on a dock. His eyes rolled back until they were all white and veins and his spine arched so high it looked like he would simply break in half.

Brooklyn could not tell if he cried out or not, he couldn't hear over Lexington's screaming. He dropped to his knees and tried to contain the thrashing gargoyle in his arms.

"Didn't you know?!" Dracon yelled. He laughed loud into the dark. "He can hear us, you idiots! He's been listening the whole time!"

A dozen conversations played in Brooklyn's mind. Private ones. Between him and Lex, between Lex and Broadway, Hudson, anything Lexington had said to himself. He thought of Xanatos' many cameras in his castle. They had never truly escaped him. Xanatos had been a silent ghost, haunting every moment since they left.

"If you don't let me go, he's gonna kill him." Dracon fought to keep his legs on the banister, still laughing. The maniacal sound filled the sky.

"Put him down." Brooklyn's hands, afraid to touch, hovered around Lexington, whose jaw flexed wide with another piercing scream. The muscles in Lex's chest spasmed wildly around his ribs. Brooklyn feared they might snap. "Put him down, Broadway!"

Broadway, pale with horror, yanked Dracon back onto the terrace and dropped him. The man grunted with the impact and spread his arms across the ground, shaking with relief.

"I let him go! Stop!" Broadway stepped over Dracon's body to rush to Lexington's side. He fell to his knees and cried. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, stop!"

Lexington collapsed. His back straightened and his eyes rolled back to where they should be but there were glazed over, half lidded. Residual shockwaves twitched his limbs, the muscles in his face. His jaw remained slack and open with no sound but his raspy, labored breathing.

"Oh my god, oh my god." Broadway slipped his arms gingerly under Lexington and pulled him into his lap, against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Lex, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Brooklyn watched his rookery brother rock the other and cry against his head. To his surprise, he felt nothing. Or, perhaps he felt so many things at once that his mind simply couldn't comprehend it all, and left him numb as a means to compensate.

The numbness was welcome. It was quiet and calm, albeit misleading. Brooklyn stared blankly at the stone beneath his knees. For a minute, he was not in his body, not in this moment in time, but somewhere far away, watching all of this from above as if it were some strange, disturbing movie. He wanted to turn it off. He wanted to watch something else. Anything else.

"I'm going to get rid of him."

Brooklyn blinked, turned to look up at Hudson, who was the only one left standing. The gargoyle met his eyes sternly.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure he gets back to the ground safely. But he can find his own way home." He touched Brooklyn briefly on the shoulder as he passed him before moving toward Dracon. The human flinched back, raising his fists. "Would ya rather climb your way down? Or waltz through the police station?"

Dracon frowned, leveling a finger at the gargoyle. "Xanatos will find out if you hurt me, and he'll take it out on your little green friend-"

"That's enough out of you, boy." Hudson reached down and grabbed Dracon by the collar, pulling him to his feet. "You've caused enough trouble as it is. Shut up before we change our minds." He tucked an arm around Dracon's waist and hoisted him against his hip. Without looking back, he launched for the balcony, spread his wings, and was gone.

It felt significantly colder for some reason. Brooklyn's gargoyle instincts told him that the winds had changed - a cold front had passed over the ocean and was wading through Manhattan. It would go largely unnoticed to the humans below but up there on the clocktower, they were just close enough to the clouds to feel a subtle change like that. Winter was on the horizon.

Brooklyn searched for Lexington's blanket, found it forgotten a few feet away. He grabbed it and crawled to Broadway's side. The two larger gargoyles fashioned it around the trembling form of their rookery brother without a word.

Words were not sacred anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: brief *almost* sexy times. Nothing explicit.

* * *

Chapter Six

Brooklyn would never have used the word 'chatterbox' to describe Lexington by any means, even when they were hatchlings. Lex always talked purposefully, with meaning, aware that each word he used was important. There was never any senseless filler conversations, nothing awkward or forced. If it didn't come naturally, Lexington prefered silence.

But on day one hundred of Goliath's disappearance, it marked ten days since Lexington stopped talking altogether, and the latter was much more pressing than the former. Because Broadway was right when he shouted out on the balcony about Goliath and Elisa and Bronx being as good as dead. They weren't here, Lexington was, and Lexington was fading right before his eyes, mute, isolating himself in the tinkering room. If there was anything good to be said at all, it was that Lexington was at least engaging with his machines again. Brooklyn had seen sketches of something on the counter, but Lex refused to let him see it, and covered his mouth when he tried to ask what it was.

Brooklyn knew what his rookery brother was doing - trying to limit as much information Xanatos could obtain through him. If he didn't speak, and if they didn't speak to each other, then Xanatos could only really guess what they were doing. "Unless he's got eyes in here," Hudson had said to Brooklyn one evening, which set off a panic in him so hot he almost threw up, and he and Hudson and Broadway crawled up and down every single wall in the attic of their clocktower searching for signs of wires or cameras or tampering of any kind. They found nothing, but that did not keep Brooklyn from eyeing the corners and hiding behind his wings.

Since Hudson had returned from dropping Dracon on some building rooftop at random, none of them had left the tower save for Brooklyn a couple of times to find food. Before, Elisa had done their shopping for them, and they had grown accustomed to there always being something to eat. But the cupboards had long since gone bare, and the clan was back to living off scraps thrown out of restaurants.

(Not that any of them were eating much, anyway. They were all losing weight but it was most noticeable in Hudson; more and more of him seemed to disappear every time Brooklyn looked).

The confinement was agitating even to the one enforcing it. Brooklyn often stood at the clocktower door all but vibrating where he stood, staring anxiously at the sky. His wings ached to be carried by a cool draft again, his body longed to be weightless. But those feelings were dwarfed by the enormity of his fear. For the first time in his life, the stars threatened him. The wind and the night frightened him. The sky wasn't sacred anymore, wasn't safe; anything could happen outside of the clocktower walls. He couldn't even protect one of his clan inside of them.

They were trapped inside and there was too much danger outside, and trying to exist in a precarious limbo proved to be exhausting in ways Brooklyn hadn't known he could be.

The combination of not being able to shed stress to the night sky and a mute Lexington weighed so heavily on Brooklyn's chest that he felt like he couldn't breathe. He stood on the balcony of the clocktower just barely - there were still very fresh memories of Dracon's swollen face taunting them on the ledge and he was reminded of it every time he saw the dried blood the human had spat at them stained on the stone. Like a poltergeist, the memory replayed over and over every time Brooklyn stared too long, and so he kept his eyes on the horizon, ignoring the echoes of Dracon's laughter and Lexington's anguished screaming that lingered like a bad smell.

Winter was upon them. December morphed Manhattan into an island of Christmas - the skyscrapers were crested with snow, like narrow mountains strung with lights in the dark. The wind was cold and bitter and gargoyle skin was so thick that Brooklyn barely felt it but he longed to feel numb. He breathed it in sharp and quick, crisp, and tasted Wyvern winters long forgotten.

His eyes turned up to the moon, hanging white and heavy and full like a pearl on a blanket of black velvet. A thousand years ago when he was young, the moon was the closest thing gargoyles had to something revered and holy; he remembered being in absolute awe of its sheer size, how it birthed the darkness every evening only to drown in morning flames, the way it followed him across the arch of the sky - what he loved most were the phases, how sometimes it was only pieces. It was a comfort to know that it would always become whole again, in time.

This wretched century had taken even the religion of the moon away from him. Humans had determined it was nothing but a rock suspended in the vacuum of space. They had even flown themselves up there and stuck a flag in it as if it were just another piece of land to take.

Humans had not changed, not in a thousand years. Now they were taking moons and planets instead of castles.

A shadow began to crawl along the edge of the moon in the distance. Brooklyn initially dismissed it as a plane, but the longer he stared the bigger the figure became, and soon it took on a form. The outline of wings drew themselves on the backdrop of the moon. Legs, arms. Brooklyn stepped away from the banister - was it one of Xanatos' robots? His heart climbed into his throat and stayed there, pounding so hard he could feel it on the back of his tongue.

Could it be-?

Hope filled his chest like a poison only to pop painfully within his ribs.

It was Talon, Elisa's brother. Brooklyn relaxed the offensive stance he wasn't consciously aware he had taken, folding his wings against his back as the panther hybrid touched down on the banister. The two exchanged strained smiles as Brooklyn approached. Talon stepped down to the balcony and they clasped hands in greeting.

Before Brooklyn could speak a word, a sudden bang behind him made them both jump in surprise. Brooklyn turned to see Broadway in the threshold of the clocktower with the door all but punched clean off its hinges. His face was bright and happy and hopeful for a moment so brief, Brooklyn would have missed it had he blinked.

The gargoyle registered Talon and his face fell hard, and Brooklyn could have cried just looking at him.

"Oh. I thought …" Broadway trailed off, staring down at his feet. His broad shoulders trembled. "You haven't heard anything?"

"No," Talon finally spoke, his tone just as flat. He looked to Brooklyn. "I was hoping you had."

Brooklyn shook his head. He watched Broadway slump back into the clocktower, pulling the door shut very gently, as if he were afraid he had caused it pain.

He swallowed hard and sat on the banister, facing the clocktower, and Talon followed suit by his side. They both stared at the clock's face in silence as a cold wind whistled past them.

"When Elisa first joined the force," Talon began abruptly, elbows on his knees and face resting carefully in his hands (paws?). "She called Mom and Dad at the end of every shift for six months straight because they were so worried about her, and she knew it made them feel better to know she was okay." His eyes rolled up to stare at the sky. "Now they think we're both dead."

Brooklyn's stomach twisted. He reached out and clapped a hand to Talon's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Believe me when I tell you that I understand what you're going through."

Talon's lips tightened as he shook his head, turning to meet Brooklyn's eyes. "It's the not knowing that's the worst part, isn't it?"

Brooklyn nodded slowly. He brought his hand back to his lap and absently traced the lines in his palm.

"You don't think Xanatos had something to do with them disappearing, do you?" Talon's voice dripped into a growl. "He never did like my sister."

Brooklyn sucked in a quick breath through his beak. He shook his head. "No, I don't think he was involved. He likes toying with Goliath too much to make him disappear this long." He looked up. "But I would stay away from him and keep an eye out. We had an … incident with him a few weeks ago. There's something really off about him."

Talon frowned. "What happened?"

Brooklyn wanted to tell him - wanted to tell someone so that it wasn't just his to keep inside anymore. But Talon had the Labyrinth to worry about, his own clan, his own problems. The grief of his missing sister and being estranged from his family was already a burden too heavy for one person to carry. It would be selfish of Brooklyn to try and make him shoulder anything more.

He shook his head. "It's over with, for now. Just be careful."

"You know if you need any help, all you need to do is ask." Talon tried to look supportive, but his eyes were sad. "We weren't born warriors like you guys, but we can definitely back you up if you need it. With them gone," Talon continued, face falling. "We have to stick together."

Brooklyn reached out again to touch Talon on the shoulder - gargoyles were like that, very physical in their affection, even to those outside the clan, and for a moment he wondered if he was making Talon uncomfortable, but the man didn't seem to mind. He rolled his eyes up to the sky.

"Do you think they're dead, Brooklyn?"

Brooklyn followed Talon's gaze. They searched the sky for a minute in silence. Manhattan's lights polluted the night so much that there were no stars.

Brooklyn didn't answer because he didn't want to say out loud what he truly thought. That would make it real.

* * *

Brooklyn sat on one end of the work bench with a half eaten sandwich in his hands. Lexington was at the other, his sandwich untouched and forgotten, bent over a stack of papers and a pencil sharpened nearly to the eraser pinched between his fingers. He sketched furiously, scribbled equations, nearly tearing straight through the paper, only to grunt in frustration, tear up the shreds, and toss them to the floor.

It looked like the snow outside had somehow found its way in.

Brooklyn set his sandwich down and sighed. He wasn't even hungry but he thought maybe if he feigned interest, tried to share a meal with Lexington, it would encourage him to eat, too. The green gargoyle's bones had started to protrude through his skin in a grotesque way, his cheeks were becoming hollow. Honestly, the whole clan was starting to erode in the same way but Lexington was already so small to begin with, he didn't have a whole lot to lose.

He thought having lunch together might give Lexington a moment to relax, too. Hopefully speak. It had been two weeks since he had said his last word. At most Brooklyn received grunts, vague hand motions. Mostly Lexington wanted to be alone in the tinkering room, playing with wires and little metal screws and tools that were created for human hands much larger than his own.

Brooklyn tapped the tip of a finger on the counter, watching Lex's stressed profile. He was absorbed. Brooklyn might as well have not been in the room. The tip of his talon dug deep into the counter. Before this room had turned into Lexington's private workshop, this is where the trio would go to address other matters - private still, but in a different way.

Brooklyn blinked. The thought had come out of nowhere, and as those thoughts often did, it came at an inappropriate time. He leaned away from the counter and stared down the length of it. He saw ghosts of Lexington crawling over him, kissing him, moaning into his neck - he saw Broadway coaxing him into his lap with a crooked finger, laughing warmly at Brooklyn's attempts to last longer than both of them knew he could - and the three of them, caught up in each other, so hopelessly tangled that they weren't sure where the three of them began and ended, together and close and hot, always so hot -

Fuck. Brooklyn ran a hand down his face to cover his eyes, as if the old memories couldn't just keep playing on the back of his eyelids.

He peeked through a crack in his fingers at Lexington. He studied the tense, taut lines of muscle in his arms and back, the strain of his clenching jaw. None of them had been relaxed since Goliath's disappearance, especially since Lexington got hurt, and Brooklyn couldn't remember the last time they were intimate. Before Goliath went missing? Maybe soon after? The days were beginning to blur together. For a brief, panicked moment, Brooklyn couldn't remember how many days it had been. He caught his breath, held it.

One hundred and fourteen. It had been almost a third of a year.

"Lex?"

Lexington's movements screeched to a halt like an old machine. He jerked his eyes to Brooklyn without turning his head, placed a finger to his lips, and shook his head.

"I don't care if he's listening." Brooklyn stood and came closer. Lexington paled. "Let him listen." When Lexington turned his back to him, Brooklyn took him carefully by the shoulder. The smaller gargoyle tried to shove him off but Brooklyn held on, forcing him around. The counter dug into Lexington's lower back. Brooklyn stood over him, intimidating but not threatening. "Look at me," Brooklyn pleaded, cupping Lexington's cheek in his hand. Lexington tried to remain stiff, but the contact melted him like wax to a flame. "I miss you. You're right in front of me and I miss you."

Lexington's face looked pained. He turned his face into Brooklyn's palm and let his eyes close, breathing slowly. Brooklyn missed it the first time, but the second time Lexington flexed his lips across his flesh, he caught the words being mouthed against them - I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"Oh, Lex, no, no." Brooklyn slipped his hands under Lexington's arms and brought him onto the counter to sit. He stepped between the smaller gargoyle's legs and folded his arms and wings around him in a tight cocoon. "Don't you dare apologize for something you had no control over. What if it was Broadway? What if Broadway had gotten hit? Would you tell him he had to be sorry?"

Lexington gave a sharp sob. It was the first sound he had made in weeks. Brooklyn hated that he was relieved, like a mother hearing her baby's first cry.

Lexington's fingers snaked up Brooklyn's neck and threaded into the red gargoyle's hair. Even though they had all happily picked up the human equivalent of kissing with their mouths, the traditional gargoyle way was somehow better. It was pure and natural to them, and Brooklyn sighed at the touch, his hands flattening across the plane of Lexington's back.

To his surprise, Lexington's legs tightened around his waist. Heat began to build on the curve of his neck - Lex's mouth, peppering kisses there.

"Remember when this room was special?" Lexington whispered, his voice hoarse from weeks of silence, and still Brooklyn trembled at the sound. "Remember when our lives were special?"

"They still can be," Brooklyn said against Lex's ear. His fingers arched, dragging just a bit of claw across Lexington's skin, drawing a hiss from the smaller gargoyle's mouth.

Neither of them said aloud what they were both thinking - that they didn't believe that for a second.

"He's listening," Lexington whispered, but pulled Brooklyn closer, wound around him more tightly. He thought he felt the shape of a grin in his neck. "Does that make Xanatos gay?"

Brooklyn laughed. It was an absurd moment, but it was genuine. "I think Xanatos is more than a little gay."

Lexington shook with giggles. The tension of the moments leading up to this broke away, and everything was okay for just a minute, nothing outside of them mattered just then. They were making jokes like they used to, tied close to the other.

It felt special, despite the circumstances. Xanatos couldn't take that or Lexington's voice away from them. The only thing that would make it better would be if Broadway were there, too, but the moment was so fragile that Brooklyn couldn't risk leaving the room - he'd make it up to him, though, tenfold. Just the image of the three of them lying together like they used to, like they should be, made his very heart feel lighter.

"I want to feel normal again. I want to feel safe." One of Lexington's hands combed through Brooklyn's long white hair, the other pressed against Brooklyn's chest to feel his speeding heart. "Mine doesn't beat like it's supposed to," Lexington whispered softly. "It's so quiet I can't hear it at all. I don't even understand how it works-"

"Shh," Brooklyn shook his head, pulling back far enough to gather Lexington's face in his hands and kiss him on the mouth. The gargoyle thawed in his grip, and panted against his beak when they separated. "I can make you feel normal again. I can make you feel safe." His hand ran gently down the length of Lexington's chest, cupped around his thigh, and hiked it up so he could more properly fill the space. Wings spreading like a great canopy above them, Brooklyn urged Lexington to lie flat on the counter. Brooklyn crawled over him, not letting an inch of space between their flesh. "If you want me too."

Lexington's chest shuddered. He stared up at Brooklyn like it was the very first time, and Brooklyn could see in his eyes that he was trying to remember when they had last been together like this, too.

"It's been too long," Brooklyn said. His hands curled around Lexington's narrow hips. They were both trembling like virgins. "God, I've missed this. Missed you. And Broadway."

Lexington licked his lips. "Me too." He reached out with both hands, palms flat against Brooklyn's chest and trailing over the red skin. His fingers traced the line of Brooklyn's belt, and both of them began to pant.

"Lex," Brooklyn moaned, bowing over Lexington like he was worshipping at church, and kissed him. On the mouth, on the neck, hands holding Lex's squirming hips in place because he remembered how much he liked it. Of course he remembered - no amount of time would make him forget how to play Lex's body, how to make all the right sounds come out of him, the perfect music, like he was a finely tuned instrument. He rolled his own hips against him, swallowed the sound that came out of Lex's mouth when he did, and allowed his hands to travel north, to feel more of him, to chart his way across the map of his body like a favorite path. Lexington's legs crossed at the dip in Brooklyn's back, forcing him closer. Brooklyn gave a breathless chuckle.

They both wanted this so much. They needed it even more.

Brooklyn's hands forgot about Lexington's scars, and maybe they could be blamed for what happened next. Because as they journeyed to Lexington's neck, where he would have pulled him up into another heated kiss, they skimmed over the long violet stripe on Lexington's sternum, and the small, hollow dip to the left of it. Brooklyn didn't even notice, not at first, but the harsh twinge that flexed beneath the skin of Lexington's chest certainly gave him enough reason to pause. All movements hesitated and he pulled back, searching for Lexington's eyes; they were screwed tightly shut. In pain.

Brooklyn immediately sat back. "Lex? Are you okay?"

Lexington winced, a hand pressed to his chest. He was trying to catch his breath again, except this time it was only because of pain. "I'm sorry, it's just - it's still sore -"

"Shit. Lexington, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I -" Brooklyn struggled to find the words strong enough to express his guilt. Could he do nothing right? He told Lexington that he could make him feel normal and safe but he couldn't even do such a simple thing, couldn't even take Lexington's mind off of their terrible situation for ten minutes without completely fucking it up.

"It's okay, Brooklyn. It's okay." He sat up and Brooklyn stepped back, giving him room. The smaller gargoyle closed his eyes, shook his head. "We can't do this anymore."

"That's okay. We don't have to. We can wait until you feel better-"

"No, Brooklyn. I mean. Never. Not with this heart in my chest." Lexington looked at him, eyes severe. "I don't want him listening to this. Not even once."

Brooklyn's shoulder slumped forward. "Lex -"

"I'm trying - I'm -" Lexington clicked his teeth shut, gesturing to the papers littered across the floor. Brooklyn followed his eyes, confused, staring down at numbers and lines and sketches that he didn't understand. Lexington dropped back to his feet, wincing, but waving Brooklyn away when he tried to comfort him. He bent down and grabbed a paper at random, then pressed it to his chest.

Brooklyn's brows knit together and he shook his head, not getting it, and then it clicked.

Lex was trying to design a new heart. And he didn't want Xanatos to know.

Heart in his throat, Brooklyn shook his head. "No, no, Lexington, there's no way -"

Lexington cut a hand sharply over his neck to get Brooklyn to shut up. "It doesn't matter. I can't figure it out anyway." Lexington tore the paper in his hands and let the pieces flutter to the ground. He stepped over them, in front of Brooklyn, and looked right into his eyes. "I love you," he said firmly, lower lip quivering. He bit the inside of it in a failed attempt to keep it still. "But I don't want him listening in on moments that are supposed to be … private. He's already invaded every other moment in my life. In our lives." He shook his head and tried to take a breath. It caught in his chest as a sob. "I won't let him have this, too."

Brooklyn reached out and placed a hand on Lexington's head, smoothing down the back of it and cupping the back of his neck. He pulled him close and tucked his wings around him. "I love you, too." The tip of his beak dragged gently across Lex's head to his ear. "Just don't go quiet again, okay? I need to hear your voice every day. You don't know how much we missed it."

"Okay." Lex sniffled, pulled away to wipe his eyes on the heel of his palm. They both stared at the counter, at the distinct outline of Lexington's body against the forgotten paper.

The almost moment seemed to get stuck there, playing before their eyes, until finally Brooklyn said he needed a minute alone, and Lexington agreed that he needed some space, too, and really they were just running away before they got sucked back into that almost, and had to hurt each other all over again.

* * *

Brooklyn had almost completely forgotten about the cat until his foot caught on something distinctly furry and had a rather painful greeting with the floor. For a minute he just laid there, spread eagle in the main room, with no motivation to ever get back up again.

Let the cat take him down. It's not like his life was all that great, anyway.

Cagney's grey body came into view to investigate Brooklyn's face, sniffing and searching him as if for injuries. Brooklyn didn't bother waving him away, not even annoyed when the cat started licking his beak. He could've sworn the cat was apologizing, in his own way.

"You look more well fed than the rest of us," Brooklyn grumbled, pinching one eye shut as the feline tried to drag his tongue over it. "Who has been taking such good care of you, hm?"

"Me."

Screwing his head around, Brooklyn saw Broadway standing behind him, arms crossed with a soft half-smile on his lips. He clicked his tongue and Cagney perked, leaping over Brooklyn's fallen body. He jumped right into Broadway's arms and purred so loud that Brooklyn could hear it from where he remained on the floor.

Grunting, Brooklyn pushed himself into a sitting position. Suddenly Broadway's hand was in his face, an offering, and when Brooklyn took it he was pulled swiftly to his feet.

"He misses Elisa," Broadway said. The cat nudged his nose across the gargoyle's cheek. Broadway smiled, a sad and broken thing, scratching his finger under Cagney's chin. "So do we, buddy."

Brooklyn didn't mean to frown, though that seemed to be his natural state these days. He reached out and ran his hand down Cagney's spine. The cat arched into his touch and chirped happily. "I wish I could be as nonchalant about it," Brooklyn mumbled.

Broadway bent over and set the cat down. He made a beeline for the recliner, leaping onto the back of it and giving Hudson a fright. Broadway and Brooklyn chuckled softly, and without thinking about it Brooklyn leaned against him. Broadway rested his chin on Brooklyn's head.

Just being close to Broadway was relaxing - there was a soft aura to him, a gentle warmness. He was always the most inviting of the clan, the one with the loudest laugh and the biggest smile. Brooklyn turned his head up to look at him. That Broadway was fading away. Someone much more hollow was taking his place.

"Hey," Brooklyn said, reaching down to take Broadway's hand in his. Broadway's fingers tightened around it as naturally as a reflex. "Wanna go sit on the balcony with me?"

Broadway nodded against his hair. Brooklyn led them through the door and out into the night. It was cold enough that their breath hung in the air briefly before disappearing like smoke but it had not snowed yet that night, so they sat on the bare balcony floor with their backs against the clocktower and their eyes on the city. Broadway had one arm around him and Brooklyn was warm against his chest. They did not speak for a few minutes, just enjoying the proximity of the other, and the coolness of the night. Brooklyn felt more relaxed in Broadway's gentle embrace than he had in a long time, and he might have fallen asleep if he were more selfish.

He needed to make sure his clan was okay. Communication had been lacking lately, even now that Lexington was talking again. They were all existing together but conversations were rare, short, and held no substance. Lexington could barely look at Brooklyn and was still withdrawn to the tinkering room more often than not. At the very least, he was eating more.

He would take that small victory for what it was worth.

Brooklyn sat up. Broadway looked at him but his eyes were far away, as if he were still looking out across the city.

"Talk to me." Brooklyn reached for Broadway's opposite hand and squeezed it.

The corners of Broadway's mouth flexed upward but the smile was as fake as a mask. "I'm okay. I mean. None of us are okay. Especially Lexington. But I'm as okay as I can be, I guess."

"You don't have to pretend right now. It's just you and me." Brooklyn held Broadway's hand in both of his, rubbing the top of it with his palm.

Broadway bowed his head and stared down at their hands where they joined. Brooklyn could taste the other gargoyle's guilt on the back of his tongue. It tasted like iron - like blood.

"You need to stop blaming yourself, Broadway." Brooklyn ran his thumbs over Broadway's knuckles. "Nothing that happened is your fault."

"I walked us right into a trap and if I hadn't been so stupid none of this would have happened, if I had taken the bullet that was meant for me, then Lexington-"

"Broadway." Brooklyn's voice was stern. Broadway did not look up. "Listen to me. The trap was designed specifically for us to walk into. If it hadn't worked out the way it did with you, Xanatos would've just made a different one. For all we know, we avoided other traps he set up before this. Xanatos is … persistent. If this was the end result he wanted, he would have gotten to it one way or another. You were just trying to do the right thing, and it wasn't your fault." Brooklyn stopped to catch his breath. He hadn't realized how heated he had become. "You are wasting energy being angry at the wrong person, Broadway."

Broadway finally met his eyes. "Are you taking your own advice?"

Brooklyn deflated. "It's much easier to give it than live it."

Chuckling softly, Broadway tightened his arm around Brooklyn's waist. "That sounds like a fortune cookie," he joked. "How about I'll stop blaming myself when you stop blaming yourself."

"That's not fair." Brooklyn tucked closer. His arm wrapped around Broadway's stomach with a frown. "You're getting skinny."

"Thanks."

"Shush. You know we all like you big."

Broadway smiled into Brooklyn's hair again. "I like being big, too."

Brooklyn pulled back to meet the other gargoyle's eyes once more. He wanted to kiss him, because if this were a hundred days ago, if this were a normal day, it would be natural to kiss him just then. But he hesitated, because Broadway was smiling but looked so sad and far away. Brooklyn raised his hand and touched his cheek. "Where are you?" The question was just a whisper. Broadway's brow crumpled together in confusion. "I mean you're not here, not really."

Broadway chewed on his lip. His chest heaved with a sigh, and he seemed to be searching for just the right words. "I don't know how to explain it. Sometimes, everything feels fake. Like I'm watching TV." He looked at his hands, reached up and put one over Brooklyn's at his face. "Nothing feels real." He jerked his eyes away and stared at something over Brooklyn's shoulder. "I don't even feel real, sometimes."

"Broadway." Brooklyn whispered sympathetically, and swiped his thumb beneath Broadway's eye.

The gargoyle shook his head and pulled Brooklyn's hand away. "It's nothing. It's not a big deal. Sometimes it's not so bad, because then I don't have to feel guilty or upset. But sometimes, I can't bring myself back to feel anything good."

Brooklyn bit back the retort that came to his mind - well, it's not like there's anything good to feel.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Brooklyn asked.

Broadway's eyes traveled skyward. His eyes connected the dots of the stars far above them. "I'd like to fly."

The request startled him. It almost seemed like an absurd request - and that was sad, in and of itself, that a gargoyle could possibly be denied the right to fly. "Broadway," Brooklyn began, with an acute sense of walking on thin ice. "It's just not safe right now-"

"I know." Broadway's lips flexed again. He was trying to smile, but it looked like a wince. "But it's the only thing that I want to do, really."

Brooklyn looked at the sky. He missed it like an old lover. "Soon. Okay?"

Broadway nodded. He pulled Brooklyn close again and they sat in silence for a while, listening to the great gears of the clock behind them, the distant honking of the cars below. Somewhere far off, sirens. Usually that was their beacon to draw them out and investigate, but they hadn't done that in so long that Brooklyn barely registered them.

So much had changed.

"Talk to me," Broadway said.

Brooklyn shook his head.

"Lexington told me what happened the other day."

"Oh, god." Brooklyn pinched the bridge between his eyes. "I'm so stupid."

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing. I'm supposed to be leader and here I am, trying to make out with Lex after he's had heart replacement surgery for God's sake, like a complete idiot-"

"Brook, hey." Broadway's large hand rubbed up and down Brooklyn's spine. "You're not dumb. It's been a long time, and before all this, we didn't have to be afraid to touch each other. You don't have to feel bad. Lex isn't mad at you."

"Are you giving leader speeches, now?" Brooklyn asked, and smiled at the way Broadway's chest rumbled with soft laughter.

"Goliath would be proud, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah," Brooklyn sighed. "I just. I miss the way things were so much and I wanted to forget for a while. I think we all need it. We all certainly deserve it. Did he tell you what he told me? That he would never be with us like that again? Because of Xanatos?" Brooklyn bristled with anger. His hands tightened into fists. "He took away Lex's heart, almost took away his voice, and now he can't even have a private moment with anyone ever again. I could - fuck. I could kill him."

"Breathe, Brooklyn." Broadway's warm hand at his back kept him from evaporating into the air. "I can help you forget for a while, if you want."

Brooklyn blinked in surprise. "Is that why you think I brought you out here?"

Broadway paused for a moment, as if he wasn't sure how to answer, then shrugged. "I thought it had something to do with it."

"Broadway, no. I just wanted to talk with you and make sure you were okay."

"I want to make sure you're okay, too." Broadway pulled Brooklyn closer, using both arms to wind around the smaller gargoyle's waist. Broadway's strength always came so effortlessly; he had Brooklyn in his lap without so much as a strained line in his face. Brooklyn straddled Broadway's crossed legs and his hands moved to rest on his large chest like he always had - his fingers hesitated, remembering the last time they tried to touch someone he loved in the same spot, but soon relaxed when Broadway's hands closed over them and squeezed them with reassurance. "You deserve to feel good. You're carrying more than all of us put together," Broadway said, his voice low and soft.

Brooklyn shook his head slowly, hands curling into fists around his rookery brother's. "I'm doing a piss poor job of it. Everything -" Brooklyn's breath hitched in his throat like a hiccup. "Everyone is falling apart."

"Come here." Broadway leaned forward and took Brooklyn's face in his big hands and Brooklyn felt so small. Broadway kissed his beak, trailed his lips along the side of it, and slipped his thick fingers into Brooklyn's mane of hair. With a fistful, Broadway carefully pulled Brooklyn's head back to expose the red and flushed skin of his neck and began mapping it with kisses contrastingly hot against the cool winter breeze around them.

Brooklyn's eyes fall closed. It was like slipping to sleep, being under Broadway's touch like that, like being pulled into a peaceful dream. The world stretched all around them, uninterrupted by walls, and yet his universe was so small - it was just him and Broadway with the stars bearing witness. His mind emptied into Broadway's strong hands as they roamed down his chest and he was nothing but a body being brought back to life, a flower in a drought drinking the rain.

Broadway's knees shifted around and behind him, acting like a strong wall for his back to rest against. Brooklyn's wings stretched, and his tail wound around Broadway's back, urging him closer, and the bigger gargoyle was kissing his chest, and Brooklyn moaned the other's name because, at the time, it was the only word he knew.

It was touch that he had longed for, a closeness that he needed, and it would have been so easily to fade away into it, to focus on nothing but Broadway and his hands and his mouth and the heat coiling in his gut. That's what Brooklyn wanted, just a brief pause in the mess that their lives had become, a moment to throw it aside for something pure and good. He threw his head back and gasped as teeth raked down his sternum and watched through half lidded eyes as his breath came out in a cloud of steam.

He wanted to let go. He wanted the hand Broadway pressed against his belt to slip under it, he wanted to kiss him until they were both dizzy, and he wanted the Manhattan sky to watch it all. The universe could fuck off. He still had this.

Brooklyn's head rolled forward to find Broadway's eyes and realized that the universe had already declared he couldn't have this, either.

Because Broadway was right there, right between his legs, but he also wasn't. His eyes were distant, his motions were robotic - just practice, muscle memory. There was nothing in his face that said he was even present.

He was gone. He was somewhere Brooklyn didn't know how to get to.

The library came to his mind then, of all things, and he heard an echo of his words - please don't go where I can't reach you - and realized that Broadway had broken his promise. Lexington, too.

Goliath and Elisa and Bronx's distance was physical. But this distance was somehow far worse because he could touch both of them and that didn't mean they were really there.

Brooklyn suddenly felt very sick. Broadway didn't want this, not like Brooklyn did. He wasn't even in his mind enough to know what he wanted. He just knew that Brooklyn did and was trying to give him a moment of pleasure and peace without thinking for a second what it might do to him.

It was such a Broadway thing to do that it broke Brooklyn's heart.

"Broadway," he said, scooping up Broadway's still traveling hands. He watched as Broadway's reaction delayed by several long seconds, and his eyes focused just a little, turning up to meet Brooklyn's.

"What?" Broadway frowned. "Did I hurt you?"

Brooklyn's eyes burned. "No, baby. You didn't hurt me. I'm hurting you."

He didn't deserve to touch someone as sweet and beautiful as Broadway. He's supposed to be leader. He's supposed to put everyone before himself. That is his job. Goliath gave this to him because he believed in his heart that he could do it in his place.

Hot anger as red as his flesh scalded his veins. He tore away from Broadway and marched for the ledge of the balcony. The cold winter wind did nothing to soothe him.

"Brooklyn," Broadway said from behind, on his feet and drawing nearer. He sounded sorry.

Brooklyn felt like a monster, like he had violated Broadway and Broadway didn't even know it. Leaders can't be selfish. Leaders can't be blind to their clans true needs and wants.

Tears stung his eyes. He shrank away from Broadway when the other reached for him and balanced his foot on the banister. "I have to go," Brooklyn said, wings spreading.

He couldn't be anywhere near Broadway or Lexington. He didn't deserve their company.

Did he even deserve their love anymore?

"Where?" Broadway's voice was desperate. At least he didn't sound far away anymore. "Why?"

"Away." Brooklyn couldn't bear to look at him or the clocktower. The why hung in the air, unanswered, because the only answer he had was that he was poison. "Stay inside," he ordered, and stepped off the balcony.

He let himself fall just a few seconds longer than he should have. By the time he let the air catch on his wings, he was close enough to the road that humans could have spotted him if they looked up.

He didn't care.

The wind carried him all over Manhattan; he stuck to the shoreline and raced waves, followed the white beam of the moon. It sickened him to want to feel what Broadway felt, the disconnect, the distance between himself and everything he felt - the guilt and the anger and the hatred - but the more he willed it, the more intense it became.

This time, he didn't try to force away the hatred he had for Goliath. He cursed his former leader's name to the night. He hexed him to the moon and back.

And the moon listened, a silent witness in the dark, and Brooklyn would have fought any human who told him it was just a rock.


	7. Chapter 7

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: none that I can think of.

* * *

Chapter Seven

When evening broke, Brooklyn had no idea where he was. After a layer of stone skin erupted from his skin like caked volcanic ash, he stretched out his arms and wings with a loud yawn that was half roar. A fist rubbed into one eye, the other blinking away a dream that began to dissolve at the edges of his consciousness. It smelled like Goliath, and then it was gone.

Being unaware of his whereabouts should have brought on more concern than it did. On the contrary, for a few minutes Brooklyn looked out across the city, saw everything, and felt absolutely nothing at all. It was a welcome feeling - or lack of, rather. Brooklyn took a deep breath and tried to hold it, the emptiness, the nothing, for as long as he could.

But when he exhaled, it all came rushing back.

Lexington. The heart. The listening, the shocking, the god knows what else. Broadway, detached, there but not there. Both them under his touch and hurting. Hudson, wasting away. Anger, fear, four broken hearts hanging by the very edge of survival, and not one of them with the strength of their leader standing behind them, because their leader was not there.

Brooklyn was at a library.

He had to hold his eyes very still to keep them from rolling, because this is exactly where Goliath had said a thousand times to go for advice. "Look to the books," he'd say, gesturing to a wall of them with a grand sweep of his arm. "They hold wise lessons within their stories."

"Fuck your books," Brooklyn said aloud, to no one, to the stars, to Goliath, wherever he was. "And fuck you, too."

An arm wiped across his face. He stared at the marble beneath his feet until the wind dried his eyes. And then he launched from the library rooftop, caught the air on his wings, and sailed.

Sleeping somewhere other than the clocktower had not been a part of his plan when he left the night before. He hadn't exactly had a plan to begin with. His only thoughts at the time were to get away from Broadway - away from all of them. Because no matter what he did, he ended up hurting them, and he thought some distance might clear his head, but he only got lost in it, chased his thoughts all over Manhattan until he was clear on the other end of the island and dawn was too close on the horizon for him to make it back home in time.

Guilt was all he felt now. For running away, for hurting all of them, for failing them over and over again. For standing in Goliath's place as a mockery.

The flight home was long. Brooklyn had not realized just how far he traveled, and his stomach began to twist as he thought of a hundred different things he could possibly come back to. What if Xanatos had been waiting for him to leave the whole time and had attacked the rest of the clan while he was away? What if they had tried searching for him and been separated and captured? What if they were all being assembled with artificial hearts that Xanatos could use to torture them at any moment?

By the time the clocktower came into view, Brooklyn thought he was going to be sick. He dropped hard onto the empty balcony and yanked the door open. His eyes quickly adjusted to the shadows, and then to the three figures facing him in the main room.

He could have collapsed. They were okay. Brooklyn rushed down the stairs, rounded them, an apology already in his mouth, when a green bullet of a body slammed so hard into his chest that the words left his lips as a grunt of surprise and pain. Brooklyn nearly fell over had his tail not braced against the floor and his wings not spread to find balance. Before he could rightly register what had happened another assault came just as abruptly, two hands braced on his chest and then shoving him backward.

It wasLexington, hitting him.

"You selfish, inconsiderate asshole!" Lexington shouted. He pushed Brooklyn a third time before stepping back. His eyes were wide and wild, nostrils flaring.

Brooklyn gaped at him, finding himself taking a step away from Lexington, only to be met with the wall of the stairs at his back. Somehow he was able to tear his eyes away from the spectacle that was infuriated Lex, to assess the other two gargoyles - Hudson stood as still and cold as stone, arms crossed and eyes fixed on him with a terrible look of disappointment, and Broadway stood beside him, completely vacant and almost lifeless, like a puppet cut from its strings.

"How dare you." Lexington demanded Brooklyn's attention again. The small gargoyle looked just as big and menacing as the rest of them. "How dare you take off without telling us where you're going or when you'll be back for an entire night."

"Lex," Brooklyn finally managed, trying to articulate his guilt, his apology, but being dwarfed by the magnitude of Lexington's anger.

"You keep us shut in here for weeks, won't even let us go out on patrols anymore, and you just decide to leave for a whole day? What is wrong with you, huh? Do you know how worried we were?" Lexington's voice cracked at the end but it did not show on his face - it remained all harsh, angry lines. "How could you do that to us after the others, huh? How could you just leave like that?"

"Lexington, listen, I didn't mean -"

"I don't care about what you meant! I care about what you did!" Lexington gestured to himself, to the two gargoyles behind him. "We thought you died! We thought Xanatos had gotten you. We thought you disappeared, like Goliath!" Lexington's voice warped around Goliath's name like it was a curse. "You can't just do that, Brooklyn! You can't just abandon us."

Brooklyn's blood rushed to his head. "I didn't abandon anyone-"

"You're our leader, Brooklyn," Broadway said, his voice quiet but full and sad. He did not look up to meet Brooklyn's eyes. "We need you. Goliath trusted you to take care of us if anything happened to him-"

Brooklyn cut him off with a roar that shook the very cogs and gears of the clocktower. His eyes burned bright white and it was Lexington's turn to take a step back.

"I am not Goliath!" Brooklyn's voice came from somewhere deep in his chest, somewhere angry and damaged. It came out of him like it belonged to someone else. "Goliath abandoned us! Goliath left us here to rot!" Brooklyn's fist whipped around to crush into the stone behind him. He didn't so much as feel the impact, though the bricks crumbled from the force. "I am trying so hard and no matter what I do it's never the right thing. No one is happy. No one is okay." Brooklyn growled, turned away from the three gargoyles and marched back up the stairs he had rushed down in relief just a few minutes prior. "I'm not Goliath and I can't save any of you," Brooklyn mumbled under his breath. He slammed the clocktower door open with one hand and leaped immediately into the sky again, where it caught him gently, as soothing as the arms of a mother.

Behind him, Hudson called his name. Brooklyn did not look back.

* * *

This time, Brooklyn purposefully avoided any libraries he came across. When he finally dropped to the Earth again, it was in a field of small erected stones that stretched far over a hill and in every direction for as far as he could see. It took him a moment to remember the name of this human burial ground, but when it came to him Brooklyn felt rather ill, knowing that just beneath his feet were bodies, hundreds of them.

Elisa had told him about graveyards before. Humans treated their dead in one of two ways - burying them in places like this, or burning them, and spreading the remains in a place the deceased wanted to rest. Gargoyles were similar in the ways of the latter; their bodies returned to stone when their lives ended and it was the duty of the clan to break it down into a powder fine enough to be given to the wind.

Brooklyn had only attended a wind ceremony once when he was small at the Wyvern castle. An elder had passed during the day and his body remained stone when the sun dropped under the horizon. He was so young then that the details escaped him, but he did remember the shadow of the elder's dust caught in the beam of the moon.

"Tradition says we will all leave this world in this way," Goliath had said to the hatchlings after the ceremony was over, bent at the knees so he could meet their eyes. "Death is not to be feared, young ones. It is natural. It is a well deserved rest after all that we do."

Brooklyn's eyes opened to throw the memory away to the wind. He wished he had the remains of his leader in his hands to offer that, as well, to say goodbye in the proper, traditional way. The gargoyle way.

Instead, Brooklyn stood surrounded by dead humans, with more questions than answers, and completely alone.

Behind him, the sound of feet touching the ground. Perhaps he wasn't alone after all.

As he started to turn, to address Lex or Broadway or Hudson, the wind carried a familiar scent to him, and he froze.

Familiar, yes, and gargoyle, too, but not of the gargoyles he was expecting.

"Hello, Brooklyn."

Sometimes, gargoyle instinct was so intense that it could blind them. Brooklyn barely saw, barely registered at all that he had jumped right onto the offensive. His mind told him: enemy. His mind told him: attack.

His mind told him: I just can't catch a break.

Brooklyn whirled and launched. His eyes were brighter than moon beams but through the glare he saw her clearly. Demona. Staring right back at him, and as calm as ever.

She deflected his fist as easily as if it were a bug in her face, using just two fingers against his wrist to keep it from landing square between her eyes. She side stepped, curled her hand so that it tightened around Brooklyn's wrist, and jerked it to her side, twisting it until the bones and muscles screamed at the elbow. She yanked him close, until his head was level with her shoulder. Brooklyn cried out.

"I did not come here to fight you," Demona said, right into his ear. "I just want to talk."

"You're the last person I want to talk to," Brooklyn growled. His wings flapped, and his tail wrapped around Demona's closest ankle. He pulled, and she was forced to release him, lest she fall. As soon as he broke free, Brooklyn ran, used one of the higher gravestones to launch his foot off of and spread his wings to try and catch the wind. It was a low jump and the wind wasn't strong, but he was making some altitude when a pair of hands wrapped around his foot. The weight sent him crashing right back into the ground. A corner of sharp stone caught on his temple and ripped through the flesh - Brooklyn hissed, struggled to his feet again and whipped around.

"Listen to me." Demona stood a yard away, hands up in surrender. She was unarmed as far as Brooklyn could tell but this did not make him feel any less uneasy.

"Why?" Brooklyn snarled. A long line of blood began to trail down the side of his face. "What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear? You are our enemy!"

Demona's smile tucked at the corner of her mouth. "I know what has happened to your clan, Brooklyn. I know what Xanatos did to Lexington."

Brooklyn's mind blinked, like a glitch in a computer. He lowered his fists and stared at her. "How do you-?"

"Xanatos makes a wonderful ally. For many of the same reasons, he also makes a terrible enemy." She smiled. "I keep a close eye on him."

"Did you know about the set up?" Brooklyn flared, but Demona shook her head.

"I would have alerted you if I had." She leaned so her shoulder rested on the edge of a stone cross. "I am not that heartless."

Brooklyn snorted. "That's a lie and you know it."

Demona's eyes trailed up and down Brooklyn's form, as if she were seeing him for the first time, assessing him like a specimen in a lab. "You've grown," she said. She shook her head. "But you are not ready to be leader."

The blood slipped out of his face. "What do you know-"

"You think I have not noticed the disappearance of Goliath?" She stood straight again and came closer. Brooklyn responded by taking a step back. "You forget we were bound, once. I … felt him. Leave." She frowns, tightening her arms across her chest. "I do not know where he went anymore than you do. I do not know if he is even alive. But he is most certainly not here."

Brooklyn had not seen an expression of such genuine loss on Demona's face in a thousand years. He started to relax, and then remembered vividly the last time she had betrayed him, and immediately tensed again. "I don't know what you're hoping to get out of me, but I will not give it to you."

Demona laughed. She stepped forward again, but when Brooklyn went to step back, his feet caught on a headstone. He did not have time to maneuver around it before Demona was just a foot away, close enough that he could see the dark color of her eyes, and how the moon created white orbs in them.

"I ask nothing from you, Brooklyn, except to be a part of your clan again."

Brooklyn could not help it - he laughed, a loud bark of sound, and stepped abruptly forward, to stand at his full height until he towered over her. His laughter cut short as he stared directly into her unblinking eyes. "You really have lost your mind, Demona."

"I assure you, I have not. But I have gained a new … perspective." She released her arms so they hung open at her sides. "Xanatos is a loose cannon. What once made him a good ally - his composure, his intelligence - it is slipping. There is something wrong with him. Just yesterday I saw him strike that butler of his. David Xanatos is a lot of things, but he has never been violent without reason, like a mindless oaf. Unfortunately, if he keeps on this path, that is all he will be. And he has many dangerous resources at his disposal. You think he was a threat before? Wait." She frowned, a deep line carved between the horned ridges of her brow. "He must be stopped, and I believe that you and I and the rest of our clan can do that."

"My clan. Not our clan." Brooklyn shook his head and stepped back. "We couldn't stop Xanatos if we tried. If you know about what happened to Lex, then you know that Xanatos could kill him with the push of a button."

"Xanatos and I once used science and sorcery to bring back the dead. I could help restore Lexington to his true gargoyle self."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," Brooklyn growled, and turned to leave her. She grabbed him by the elbow, and even when he shook her she refused to let go.

"Clans are not meant to be separated," she said. "We need each other now more than ever. We cannot afford to be apart, not with Goliath missing, not with Xanatos on this path."

"What about your path, Demona?" Brooklyn leered close to her face. "The one where you want to destroy all humans? Did you think I would conveniently forget that enormous part of you and your past?"

A muscle in Demona's cheek flickered. "I will not lie to you, Brooklyn. I do hate humans. I have for a thousand years. But I am willing to put that aside, for now, to focus on the one. I fear that if I do not, the last of us will be destroyed." The hand at his elbow relaxed, slid down the length of his forearm to tighten at the wrist. "The clan needs stability, Brooklyn. I can provide that."

"How do you know what the clan needs? Have you been spying on us, too?"

"No." It was spoken too quickly, but Demona did not allow him a moment to call her bluff. "But I am not stupid. You forget that I was second, once. I know that our clan must be in a desperate state by now. Goliath has been gone for months. He left you as second but did not teach you how to be a leader."

"You have no idea what kind of leader I am -"

"I know that the kind of leader Goliath would want you to be would not be the kind to abandon the tower and come here, alone, to a human graveyard."

Brooklyn's wings snapped as they opened in anger. "You have no place to judge me, Demona! After everything you've done, everything you've put us through - put Goliath through - !"

"Listen!" Demona's grip might have bruised a human. "Do not let the past blind you, Brooklyn. Listen to what I am saying now, here, in the present. It might help us avoid an awful future."

She sounded so much like Goliath that it made his stomach turn. Something in his peripherals dragged his eyes skyward but Demona's hand was suddenly at his cheek, steering his face to hers.

"We have a common enemy, Brooklyn. Nothing has made gargoyle clans stronger than a common enemy. Imagine it, just for a moment. The clan brought back together again. Lexington, no longer a weakness -"

"He is not a weakness-"

"You know what I mean. Made himself again. Strong. All of them. And us, rising above, taking out the very man who put you in this position in the first place." Demona's fingers slipped across his hand, hooked into the spaces between them. "And you and I, together, a force that even David Xanatos could not stand against."

The fantasy was just that, a fantasy, coming out of the mouth of someone he hated only slightly less than Xanatos, and still it played in his mind like a dream. What remained of his clan in something next to normal again. Lexington, sweet Lexington, no longer bearing the weight of a mechanic heart that could harm him. Broadway, brought back to himself, tethered tightly to his body. Hudson, no longer disappointed in his lacking abilities as leader. Xanatos, dismantled. Destroyed.

It felt good. Wrong, still, compared to what their clan should be, but good enough in comparison to what it was then.

And Demona, close to him, hand wound around his own, that felt wrong but good, too, at the same time.

If someone had asked him a hundred or so days ago if he would ever let Demona touch him in this way without knocking her lights out, he would have laughed. He would have gone and found her himself, just to knock her lights out, at the very absurd idea.

But things were absurd, now.

"Your frustration is palpable." The hand at Brooklyn's cheek trailed at just the edges of where his hair met his scalp. An kiss on the edge of almost. "You've been denied release recently."

Brooklyn's breath caught. Demona was closer and he hadn't realized - he could feel her warmth all down the length of him, where her skin was beginning to meet his own. He tried to remember his hatred, his disgust, but the proximity wouldn't allow him. "How … how do you know-?"

"I can smell it on you." Her voice was a whisper. The edge of her talon dragged lightly on the edges of the scratch by his temple. He hissed and she strayed, focusing instead on his hair. She pulled a white lock free and began to twirl it around a finger.

He could smell it on her, too. It sickened him, and not because of his feelings for her, but because of his feelings for Lexington and Broadway. This scent was not theirs.

She was not what he wanted, not what he needed. But his body didn't care - his body felt heat, attention, affection, and it responded just as well. He melted in her touch as her fingers threaded into his thick mane of hair. Demona pulled the hand in her hold to her hip until her flesh filled the cup of his palm. To have a body against him that wanted him back labored his breathing.

It had been so long.

Everything was so strange.

He wasn't even himself anymore.

"We can give each other exactly what we need. Control. Revenge. Clan." Demona's mouth was trailing along the side of his beak now, toward the cut on his temple. "And we could be together in ways we haven't been in far too long."

For some reason, he was reminded of that moment on the balcony of the clocktower, when Broadway nearly dropped Dracon over the edge. Like something was shifting under his feet. Like all of time was slowing down to a stop and something, everything, was waiting and watching for him to make a choice.

He felt like he was straddling two worlds.

Behind his eyelids, he saw three people - the people he loved most, Lexington and Broadway and Hudson. He saw them hurting and alone. He was not with them. He should be with them.

Instead he was here, with the enemy. Listening to her. Letting her touch him.

A terrible shudder ran the length of his spine. This was not right. No matter how much weight and promise her words carried, it was not right, because it was not love. It was longing and sadness and loneliness, but not love.

He had love, back home, in the hearts of three people who desperately needed him.

Suddenly, the smell of Goliath. His dream. He remembered it.

It was just Goliath, holding him. Telling him to hold on.

A sound nearby, a branch snapping, maybe, pulled his eyes open. Time started up again, and Brooklyn made his choice.

"I love my clan. They deserve a stable future. They deserve better than me as a leader."

He felt more than he saw Demona's smile.

"Which is why I will become a better leader for them."

He used the hand at Demona's waist to shove her backward. She gasped and stumbled.

"Because unlike you, I care about my clan more than I care about revenge or control. Even stability wouldn't be worth us becoming nothing but angry, hateful gargoyles." He sneered at her. "And also unlike you, when I say that I am bound to someone, I mean it."

Demona tried to blink away her shock. "You will regret this, Brooklyn. When the rest of your clan falls, you will wish I had been there to stop it."

"We don't need you. We need Goliath. He's not here, and as his second - as leader, I decide what is best for my clan." Brooklyn turned his back on her and walked away, weaving through the headstones. He expected her to follow, but when he climbed the branches of a nearby tree in order to catch a draft and looked out, he saw that she was already gone.

Good riddance. He couldn't wait to get her stench off of him. He launched into the sky from the tree and caught the wind.

Home. He couldn't think of a time when he had missed it so much. Lexington, Broadway, Hudson. They were like three bright lights shining in the darkness, three shooting stars. He couldn't get back to them fast enough, couldn't apologize soon enough. Couldn't hold them and kiss them enough.

Once he had glimpsed into a possible future, one where Demona was a part of their lives, the present never seemed so important, so wonderful.

Goliath and Elisa and Bronx were still gone. But the others were right in front of him, at home, and they needed each other.

He had to stop thinking in past tense and start thinking in present tense if he wanted to save his clan. He would be better for them. If the only other options were a life with Demona or all of them falling apart, then he had to.

And for the first time in a long time, he wanted to.

* * *

The flight home lacked all of the guilt and dread and fear that had plagued Brooklyn earlier in the evening. Instead he was rejuvenated with purpose. He was sure that if Goliath were there, he would say something to that effect, that being faced with an enemy always strengthened a clan. Demona's speech echoed that and she was right, but what she had not considered was that the common enemy that would strengthen them would be her.

Demona's words were promising, the picture she painted seemed like it had good intentions, and perhaps a part of her was even genuine when she said she wanted to return - but only Goliath knew her better than Brooklyn did. The same passion that had made her a fierce warrior a thousand years ago had turned her into a dangerous enemy now, and Brooklyn would rather die than watch Lexington and Broadway and Hudson become reflections of someone whom time had warped into a hateful creature. He had almost slipped under her spell once before and nearly lost Goliath forever because of it. He would not be foolish enough to make the same mistake twice.

His instincts as a gargoyle - as a leader - told him he had made the right decision. He knew that Goliath would be proud of him. And what a relief that was, to feel something other than intense hatred for Goliath. Missing him was painful, and while hating him was slightly less so, it was only just, and it did not speak honestly to Goliath's memory. It did not take into account Brooklyn's love for him, and the love the clan would always have for him.

Besides, it wasn't Goliath he hated, it was the hole that was left behind. It was Goliath's absence. It was easy to merge the two.

He could not forget who Goliath truly was - his tenderness, his compassion, his strength - and he couldn't allow the others to forget, either. Brooklyn vowed on everything he had ever known, on the very moon herself, that he would do better by Goliath for the sake of the ones he loved most.

When he dropped down onto the clocktower balcony, his heart was no longer an anchor keeping him from moving forward. There was a lightness to him, as if the sky were still under his wings even as he approached the door. He was going to take them all flying, he was going to make promises and keep them, he was going to tell them about Demona and how he rejected her because of how much he loved them. He would say he was sorry.

Their hope in him would be rekindled and they could finally start living instead of just existing.

Brooklyn reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it. His hand flinched back in surprise as Hudson's form filled the space, and his heart nearly stopped when he looked into his elder's eyes.

Hudson's disappointed had been clearly written on his face earlier and it had unnerved Brooklyn greatly, but the expression on his face just then as he stared down at Brooklyn was an entirely different shade. It was more than disappointment, it was anger. It was rage. Goosebumps raced across Brooklyn's flesh and he had the distinct feeling that Hudson was only barely reining himself in, like he would've wanted nothing more than to clock him.

Brooklyn paled, heart in his throat. "Hudson? What's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. I may be old but I ain't stupid." His eyes narrowed into slits. Brooklyn would've sworn they were glowing. "You've gone too far this time."

Brooklyn shook his head. "I know I shouldn't have left all day like that. But I'm here to apologize. I'll grab the others and I'll explain everything -"

"It's too late for that." Hudson said, slicing his hand across the space between them. "They're too upset to see you."

Brooklyn's face set rigidly. He straightened his back and met Hudson's eyes. "I'm leader, and I'm calling a clan meeting. Right now."

Hudson jaw tightened. He stepped forward, forcing Brooklyn farther out on the balcony, away from the clocktower. His coiled fists rested on each hip, and his wings spread to their full length. The tattered, leathery ends of them spoke of battles he had fought long before the trio was even born. "You are no longer our leader," Hudson said, growling more than speaking. "We've voted as a clan, and you are being forced down."

Something inside of him cracked. It nearly brought him to his knees. Like he'd been struck, Brooklyn stepped back again, a hand hovering over his rolling stomach. "Hudson, listen to me -"

"No." The word was a bark of sound, and Hudson's eyes burned brighter, until there was no cornea or pupil left. "You are not ready to be leader. I thought in time you would learn. I trusted Goliath's faith in you. I trusted my faith in you. But now." Hudson shook his head gravely. The light in his eyes died, and though they remained narrowed into suspicious slits, disappointment once again eclipsed his anger. "Now I see that it was a mistake. You were right about only one thing. That you're not Goliath."

Brooklyn's eyes seared with heat. He shook his head frantically. "Hudson, please, if you would just listen to me. Let me talk to Broadway and Lex, I can explain everything. I'm going to do better, I'm going to be a better leader -"

"You won't go near the other two! D'ya understand me? They don't want to even look at you right now." Hudson's teeth flashed. He pulled his wings tight to his back and stepped forward until he and Brooklyn were nose to nose. "You've hurt us too much, lad. The damage is done."

All of this because of a day away from the tower? Had their fear been that great? Had he betrayed them so deeply?

Brooklyn tried to find words strong enough to express his guilt, but there were none.

"I am leader again," Hudson said, standing straight again. His eyes tore away from Brooklyn as if he couldn't bear the sight of him, and he turned sideways so the door to the clocktower was free again. "Get inside. And leave the other two be, or so help me I'll lock you out on the balcony."

The wind ripped through Brooklyn's hair and roared in his ears. Or perhaps that was his heart - he couldn't tell. Suddenly he felt very numb all over, and everything in front of him looked fake, TV-like, and Broadway's words echoed in his ears, about not feeling real.

He didn't feel real in that moment. None of it did. It was like an awful video game where every choice was out of his control, and every consequence was shit, no matter what he did. Brooklyn moved like a robot, dragging each step inside the clocktower, walking down the stairs and across the main room in a daze. He might as well have been moving down the corridor with a blindfold because he saw nothing, not even Lexington and Broadway watching him through the window of the door to the tinkering room. His brain didn't turn on again until he was at the end of the hall, in front of the library.

It had been months since he had been inside. Slowly, he pushed the door open, stepped in, and let it shut out the light of the hallway. He stood in the dark for an immeasurable amount of time. A few minutes. An hour. Brooklyn smelled only books and dust. Brooklyn found a disturbing sense of peace in feeling nothing at all.

And then, he felt everything.

Shock. Pain. Fear. Hatred. Hate thickened his very veins. He screamed until blood vessels in his eyes burst, until his head ached with the sound. Tables were tossed and broken, entire books ripped in half and their shredded pages thrown to the air. Shelves crashed and splintered on the stone floor. Goliath's precious library became a witness to a fury in Brooklyn he had never known was held inside, and Brooklyn felt like he was watching it all from above, as if it were a dream.

But when it finally came to an end, out of pure exhaustion and nothing else, Brooklyn collapsed to his knees, surrounded by ruined stories that no one could have anymore.

He cried, and the hate inside of him made him sick.

It was not hatred for his clan. It wasn't hatred for Goliath or Demona, not even for Xanatos.

There was only one person Brooklyn could ever hate so much that it made him retch all over the library floor, and he was stuck inside of him, like a prison.


	8. Chapter 8

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: a brief scene with a needle, but it does not go into detail. Brief/mild torture.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Brooklyn was not counting anymore. He did not know how many days had passed since Goliath abandoned them, or how many since Lexington was shot, or how many since he was forced down. The nights were all beginning to blur together, until Brooklyn couldn't remember if he swept up the torn paper from the library floor yesterday or the night before (was it last week?) and he couldn't keep track of his meals (he didn't really notice until he bent down to pick up one of the broken shelves and his belt nearly slipped off his waist).

He wasn't even aware that Christmas had passed until he awoke on New Years Eve to the sound of bombs in the sky. In a panic he came racing out to the main room of the clocktower, up the stairs and out on the balcony, where the other three gargoyles stood staring up at explosions of pink and purple in the sky. It was the first time he had been in the same space as all three of them at once in weeks, and only Lexington spared him half a glance.

"Fireworks," Lex had said, dismissively, and it was obvious that Brooklyn was not welcome to join them and watch, so he went back to the library, alone.

They were long, torturous weeks that Brooklyn spent mainly in the library, cleaning up the enormous mess he had made when he was consumed by rage. It was not because he felt guilty for ruining Goliath's things; Brooklyn just couldn't bear to look at the evidence of what a monster he had become for longer than a few days.

(It had nothing to do with the fact that when Broadway had peeked into the room after the initial outburst, he had been so hurt at what Brooklyn had done that he wept against the door until Lexington led him away. It had nothing to do with the little voice in the back of Brooklyn's head that said Goliath would want it to be restored before he got back. And it especially had no relation at all to the way Brooklyn cried over the shredded stories when he was too weak to ruin them anymore until the sun turned him to stone.)

The only gargoyle who spoke to him was Hudson and it was just to give brief, direct orders. Patrol. Find food. Come back. He didn't outright forbid him from talking to the other two after that first night but even if he wanted to, Broadway and Lexington kept close to each other, usually locked in the tinkering room, and barely acknowledged that Brooklyn was there at all. Brooklyn had spied on them once and saw them studying Lexington's sketches for a new heart.

The responsible part of him - the part that Goliath had said would make him a good leader when he was chosen as second - told him to open up the door right then and tell them that this was just another case of looking for clues in the books of the library. It wasn't the right answer, and it was certainly far too risky for them to accomplish, at least in their current position.

But he didn't do that, because he wasn't leader, because they had decided he wasn't good enough to be leader, and they were right. So he walked away, back to the library, and shut himself in.

He thought of Demona more than he would ever admit out loud. He replayed their conversation in the graveyard over and over again, and no amount of reading the few books that hadn't been completely demolished could distract him.

Control. Revenge. Stability. Clan. It didn't sound so bad at this point, even if the words were still hers, and he wondered if he had made a mistake rejecting her proposal to join the clan. Could it possibly be worse than this? Existing as a splinter of a fracture? Spending god knows how long without the people he loved most standing at his side?

Sometimes, late in the evening, when the sky was starting to dampen with pink, Brooklyn would wrap his arms and wings around himself and close his eyes. If he focused strong enough, he could almost pretend that Broadway was cradling him against his chest. He could almost feel Lexington tucked into his arms.

It was only there that Brooklyn found a sliver of peace.

And it all seemed unending, like they were stuck in an infinite loop of silence and isolation, the four of them wedged so far apart that it rivaled only Goliath's physical absence. Their relationships of closeness and intimacy and affection, the ones that made gargoyle clans so strong, had been whittled down to spare glances, harsh words, and not a single touch.

Brooklyn felt like he was going to fade away to nothing if they didn't love him the way they always had, and he could feel something growing more and more dim inside of him as time passed. Although he did not keep track of the days anymore, the clocktower was always ticking around him as a reminder of what was so quickly falling through the cracks.

The monotony did come to an end, but not in any of the many ways Brooklyn dreamed about while he was shut up in the library. It was not sweet and gentle and warm. There were no clan embraces, no apology kisses.

Instead, it was loud. It was painful.

Their lives jumpstarted again when Xanatos finally came calling.

When the screaming first started, Brooklyn did not immediately come running. Not because he did not hear it echoing down the corridor and reaching through the library door, but because he didn't believe it was real. Lately he had been so saturated in memories, reliving past conversations, long ago interactions, stretching as far back as Wyvern, that when he heard the screaming he nearly dismissed it as a bad memory of when Lexington had been shocked on the balcony that night with Dracon.

After a few brief moments, however, Brooklyn realized that he was not listening to the past, but to the very awful present.

He crossed the room in three long steps and when he pulled away the barrier of the door, Lexington's screams washed over him like a tidal wave. Instead of driving him back, it pulled him forward. He sailed the length of the corridor in seconds and stood at the mouth of the main room with his heart lodged in his throat.

For a moment, Brooklyn's brain forgot not just how to breathe, but why breathing was even important, because the sight before him, though at this point sadly familiar, was just as horrifying to witness.

Broadway and Hudson were both on their knees on either side of Lexington, who spasmed wildly on the floor. Lex's back was so arched and his head so pushed back on the floor that his face was upside down. The tiny pits of his pupils shrank and although they were staring wildly in Brooklyn's direction, Brooklyn was not sure if Lex could even see him, but then they rolled further into the back of his head until they disappeared completely.

"We didn't do anything!" Broadway shouted, his large hands hovering over Lexington's convulsing chest. "Stop! Please, stop!"

Hudson was frozen in panic, his eyes jerking between Lex and Broadway until they spotted Brooklyn standing petrified on the other side of the room. His shoulders slumped - not in relief, but in defeat. "Lad," Hudson said, and nothing else, because the words were not in him anymore.

Brooklyn sprinted across the room and fell to his knees over Lexington's body. "What do you want, Xanatos?!" Brooklyn shouted over Lexington's screaming, which was reaching a point that could only be described as blood curdling.

And as abruptly as it began, it stopped. Lexington crashed back to the floor, arms and legs jerking with residual spasms. Broadway sobbed and reached out, carefully cupping Lex's smooth head in his palm.

Brooklyn flattened his hand on Lex's stomach. "What do you want?" The question was laced with scorn. He didn't know how he expected Xanatos to answer, only that he clearly wanted their attention for something.

There was a strange sound, then, and Brooklyn was not sure how to explain it. He thought of a time when Elisa had shown him her record player, and the scratching noise it made when she first brought the needle down. A low, warped sound, and then -

"...trust everyone can hear me?"

The gargoyles could not help it - they recoiled away from Lexington. No, not Lexington, but the voice that was coming out of him.

It was Xanatos, clear as day.

Brooklyn blinked slowly, his brain struggling to rationalize what it was seeing, hearing. Lexington's mouth was closed. His eyes were barely open. Had they all imagined it? Had all three of them suffered the exact same hallucination -?

"Yes, you can believe your eyes, my friends."

They flinched back again. Brooklyn's ears rang as he struggled to say something coherent, but all he could manage was, "Xanatos?"

"Yes. I told you that I would be putting you back to better use, didn't I?"

Brooklyn leaned closer, bending over Lexington's body. The smaller gargoyle's eyes struggled to hold onto his form, jittering as if they were vibrating in his skull.

"How…?" Brooklyn's hand skimmed over Lexington's trembling flesh as if he were feeling the water tension on the surface of a pond. "Are you talking through - through the-?"

"The heart? Of course, Brooklyn. Keep up with me, now."

Xanatos' laughter rippled through Lexington's chest. Brooklyn began pulling his hand away until he saw that Lex had started to cry. Broadway instinctually flocked to him, lifted his small head in his hands and cradled it gently against his knees.

"I suppose I could have sent a messenger. Owen, or one of the steel clan, but I thought that this would be a more … efficient manner."

"Ye dirty old bastard," Hudson began, but Brooklyn quickly lifted a hand to silence him.

Not now, Brooklyn mouthed, then turned his head back to Lexington. His poor, fragile boy was struggling to keep his sobs from drowning out Xanatos' voice.

"I need the four of you to come to the castle as soon as possible. I have an important assignment for you."

"This can't be our life," Broadway whispered, eyes closed and shaking his head. "This can't be our life from now on."

"Oh, you should be happy, Broadway! I'm giving you a chance to feel important and useful again, aren't I?"

Brooklyn's temper flared. Instead of cursing Xanatos out like he wanted, he reached out and gently closed a hand around Broadway's wrist. His anger cooled at Broadway's touch like a hot iron dropped in water. "Don't listen to him," Brooklyn whispered, and for the first time in weeks Broadway not only met his gaze, but Brooklyn actually felt like Broadway was seeing him.

"Actually, listening to me is very crucial for you. At least, it is for your lover, here. Ex lovers, now, maybe?"

Brooklyn flared up again.

"Steady, lad." Hudson's hand was at his shoulder and it was tight enough to suggest that the warning was as much for himself as it was for Brooklyn.

"That's right, old man. Steady." Xanatos laughed again. "The sooner the better, boys. I find that I am not as patient as I used to be."

Brooklyn heard the same staticky sound as before and then Xanatos' voice was gone. Lexington's body curled inward and he turned on his side, head still on Broadway's knees.

"He's inside me," Lexington whispered. He trembled.

"We have to go. Now." Brooklyn moved to pick up Lexington, one arm snaking under his knees, the other beginning to slip around the back of his head. It was natural, a reflex, something he had done many, many times before. He wasn't thinking about how they were all still angry at him, how they had not touched or spoken or hardly looked at each other in weeks. The only thing that mattered was that they all needed to get to the castle as quickly as possible. He did not want Lexington to get shocked again.

And for a moment, it seemed they had all forgotten about their anger. Hudson was already halfway to the stairs. Broadway was making space so Brooklyn could pick up the smaller gargoyle. Even Lexington was relaxing into Brooklyn's touch as if it were the most natural thing in the world, because it was.

And then suddenly, it wasn't.

Lexington's entire body tensed so hard and so quickly that Brooklyn thought for half a second that he was being shocked again. Hands shoved against Brooklyn's shoulders, his tiny body flailing, and Brooklyn lost his grip.

"Don't touch me!"

Lexington hit the floor. He scrambled backwards, tried to get to his feet, and when he almost fell again it was Broadway who caught him. Lexington's eyes were wide and wild and watching Brooklyn as if he were nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Lexington stared at him like he was poison.

The haunting silence that followed Lexington's outburst was like hitting the ground from a hundred stories up. Brooklyn wanted to scream, wanted to pull his hair out and get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He wanted to ask them where their love had gone. What could he do to make things right again? He'd give up his wings, he'd give up everything he had for the right answer.

Beak set tightly, Brooklyn knew that now was not the time. His heart was already in so many pieces that he was not sure if there was any hope at all in repairing it, so what was the point on making it his focus? The numbness that he was becoming fast friends with crawled over him like drugs in his system. It blocked out his pain, his remorse, his love.

Get to the castle. Find out the assignment. Keep Lexington from being shocked again. That was his focus now. Everything else would have to wait, when he could be alone again and take out his frustrations on what remained of the library.

He glanced at Broadway, whose eyes were heavy and sad. He seemed to be on the edge of speaking and then decided against it, looking hopelessly at the ground. He adjusted Lexington in his arms so he was cradled against his chest. As one, they turned for the door.

Brooklyn trailed behind them and was the last to jump off of the clocktower. He kept a significant distance between himself and the other three. Over Broadway's shoulder, Lexington watched Brooklyn. The moonlight washed his tears bright white.

It was not the fact that Owen was there to greet them outside the massive wooden doors to the castle that surprised Brooklyn - that seemed to be Xanatos' custom. Owen's appearance, however, was certainly reason enough for alarm.

The butler - friend? Employee? Partner in crime? Brooklyn had never truly gotten a grasp on what the terms of their relationship even was, truthfully - stood with the usual strict pose at the front of the castle in the same formal, stiff suit, but there was something in his face that was definitely off. Even if there hadn't been a blossoming bruise collecting on his cheekbone, Owen's eyes said enough - he looked exhausted.

He seemed afraid.

"Mr. Xanatos has asked that I relieve you of your weapons," Owen said. He spoke clearly enough to be understood but with a tremor in his voice that Brooklyn had never heard before.

"I'll give ya my blade as soon as hell freezes over," Hudson snarled, hand already hovering near his sword.

Owen's brow came together as he turned to face Hudson head-on. "I do not think it is necessary for me to remind you that you do not have a choice in the matter. Unless you wish to see him -" Owen nodded to Lexington, and for a moment his expression almost seemed apologetic, "-punished for your disobedience."

"We're not pets," Broadway said, his chest swelling. His arms tucked more tightly around Lexington's form.

Owen's jaw strained. When he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper. "This behavior is not wise. I advise you to do as instructed. For all of your sakes." The man swallowed thickly. "And mine."

Brooklyn stepped to Hudson's side. "Will he get it back?"

Owen nodded.

"Let's just get this over with," Brooklyn said under his breath, and Hudson grunted but finally relented. He pulled the sword free from his belt and slapped the handle in Brooklyn's open hand.

Brooklyn crossed the short distance between the clan and Owen until he was close enough to see the very capillaries that had burst under the man's skin at his cheek. The two met eyes and did not look away even as Owen's hand closed around the sword's handle. For a moment they stood just like that, staring at the other, and Brooklyn wasn't sure what he was waiting for - a sign, a secret message, and when it didn't come he whispered, "Are you in trouble?"

Owen's face flickered with very brief surprise before settling again to blankness. "We're all in trouble," he replied, taking the weapon from Brooklyn and spinning on his heel. He marched for the doors, opened them with one hand, and stepped aside as they swung open, one arm extended as a motion for the gargoyles to follow.

With Hudson in the reluctant lead, the gargoyles filed inside, and the doors closed behind them with a great bang. Brooklyn nearly crashed right into Broadway's back and side stepped him with an apology out of the corner of his mouth until he spotted what had made Broadway stop in his tracks.

In the center of the room was a body-wide stain. It was now rusted to a dark brown but unmistakably blood - Lexington's blood. Brooklyn blinked, and in the span of that millisecond, he saw himself bent over Lexington's bleeding body with Xanatos grinning above him.

He curled his hands into such tight fists that the all the knuckles popped, one after the other.

"Pardon the mess."

Xanatos strolled into the room from a door on the left. Brooklyn had not heard him coming and he wondered if Xanatos had just been standing in the threshold, waiting for the right moment, like an actor on a stage. Brooklyn was surprised at the state of him even more than he was of Owen; the man's suit was wrinkled and his dark hair was free from its usual ponytail, falling around his face and onto his shoulders in unkempt strands. His smile was so wide it was almost cartoonish, and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes on one thing for longer than a second - they jumped from gargoyle to gargoyle to Owen and then back again excitedly. Brooklyn thought of children hyped up on candy on Halloween.

"I think of it as an art piece, these days." Xanatos said. He stopped right beside the blood on the floor and clicked his heels together. He grinned, and Brooklyn swore he could count every one of his teeth. "The beginnings of our new arrangement. It's almost sentimental to me."

Brooklyn took a deep breath and held it. He glanced at Hudson, who was on the very edge of losing his temper, and then to Broadway and Lexington. Broadway was as present as he could be, and he kept his eyes on the enemy like every gargoyle was taught to do - it was Lexington that made him freeze. Lex's eyes were stuck on the bloodstain, transfixed, as if under a spell.

"Hey," Brooklyn spoke softly, reaching out to touch Lex's face, but pausing just before contact - Don't touch me! echoed in his ears, and he pulled back. The movement was enough to drag Lexington's eyes away from the floor and they sharpened on him, breaking whatever curse had taken hold, rooting him firmly in the present. Lexington took a breath that stuttered in his chest. With a weak shadow of a smile, Brooklyn faced Xanatos again. "What do you want us to do?"

"Ah. So eager. No more yelling and throwing me around the room, like last time? You're not even going to fight?" Xanatos looked disappointed, lower lip enveloping the upper. "That's no fun, Brooklyn."

Brooklyn came to his full height. "I refuse to play games with you. You want to use us for business? Fine. It's not like we have a choice." Brooklyn tucked his wings close to his back. "What's your business?"

Xanatos shook his head - and kept shaking it, like a top sent spinning. "No, no, no. We do this my way, understand? We do this my way." He paused, strands of hair stuck to his lips, and flashed a wide smile at all of them. "If I say you dance, you dance. If I want to make you sing, you would."

"He's lost his marbles," Hudson mumbled, and held Xanatos' eyes strongly when the human whipped to look at him.

"What was that?" Xanato's hand fished into the pocket of his pants. "Say that again, a little louder, for everyone to hear."

Hudson reached for a weapon that wasn't there.

"Xanatos," Brooklyn interrupted, stepping forward until he intercepted Xanato's line of sight. "Listen to me. Something is wrong with you." He lifted his hands in surrender and tried to hold Xanatos' eyes, but they refused to stay put, jerking among the gargoyles in front of him. "Look at yourself. Even this is bizarre for you."

Xanatos opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly Owen was there, his approach silenced by the growing tension. "Mr. Xanatos. Might I make a suggestion?" He placed a tentative hand on Xanatos's shoulder, who visibly relaxed at his touch. "Perhaps we should attend to the matter at hand, hm? It is getting late. You need to rest."

"You know something is wrong with him, too." Brooklyn said, and Owen cut his eyes sharply to look at him, but did not have a chance to retort.

Xanatos yanked a black remote out of his pocket, shouted, "Enough!" and held his thumb over the button, looking wildly at Brooklyn. "Do you want me to press this? Do you enjoy watching him suffer?" The man's hand trembled, and his free one threaded into his hair at the side of his head, pulling it back, and for a moment he seemed like he was going to be sick.

Brooklyn paled and backed away quickly until he stood directly between Broadway and Lex and Xanatos. "I'm sorry," Brooklyn said, his voice level. "Look, just tell us what you want us to do, okay? And we'll do it. No arguing."

Xanatos smiled, but he still looked ill. Stuffing the remote back in his pocket, he smoothed his hands down the front of his suit in an unsuccessful attempt to settle the wrinkles. "You're not as fun as Goliath, but you'll do," Xanatos mumbled, almost as if he hadn't intended to say it out loud. "Very well. Owen, take them to the lab, would you?" Xanatos ran his hand through his hair again. "I … need a moment."

"Of course, sir." Owen gestured to the door Xanatos had originally appeared out of. "This way."

"The lab?" Lexington finally spoke, his arms wrapping tightly around Broadway's neck. His eyes were wide with fear. "For what?"

"I promise not to cut you open again," Xanatos said, chuckling. "If you promise not to get yourself shot."

Broadway reacted suddenly, wings snapping open. When Brooklyn turned to look at him he was met with two glowing, angry orbs.

"Broadway," Brooklyn warned.

"No. Let him." Xanatos stood with his arms out, exposing himself, waving Broadway forward. "Make me pay for what I did to him. Come on, I dare you. Or are you just angry that he took a bullet that was meant for you?" Xanatos threw his head back and laughed loud and hard. "Big bad Broadway can't do anything right!"

Broadway snarled, bared his teeth, and it seemed as if he was going to charge the human right then, with Lex still in his arms, but the small gargoyle in his grip was the one who diffused his anger. His hand cupped the side of Broadway's face, shushing him until Broadway's eyes dimmed to normal again, and then he closed them. Lexington stroked the ridges down the middle of Broadway's head, his fin-like ears, and whispered gently to him, so quietly that Brooklyn could not hear.

Xanatos made a disgusted, exasperated sound. "Get them out of my sight," he snapped to Owen, and stormed out of the room.

"Certainly, sir," Owen said to the empty space he left behind. For a moment he just stood there, breathing heavily, before gritting his teeth and turning the other way. "Follow me," he barked, and didn't look back to make sure they did.

The gargoyles looked at each other helplessly and then to Hudson, who faltered with indecision. Brooklyn could see in his eyes that he wanted to charge after Xanatos and peel his scalp clean off. He didn't blame his elder - right then, that was all Brooklyn wanted to do, too. But what they needed to do was be more careful. Xanatos was toeing the line of chaos and forcing all of them on the edge.

"Let's go," Brooklyn offered quietly, and started to lead them when Broadway's shaky voice filled the room.

"We can't do this forever," he said, carefully setting Lexington on his feet at the smaller gargoyle's request. "We can't let him use Lexington like this for the rest of our lives."

"If I was a bigger person, I'd just jump off the edge of the castle right now," Lexington said, almost dismissively, like it was nothing. The reaction that rippled through the clan was immediate and intense - all three of the bigger gargoyles shouted "No!" in unison, and Lexington jumped in surprise, arms hugging himself. "I just thought -"

"Ye thought nothing. We're not about to start thinkin' like that." Hudson's anger was gone, replaced instead with fierce determination.

"You think we'd stop fighting for you for even a second?" Broadway said, hand on Lexington's back. Lexington flushed with emotion and looked away.

Brooklyn had to hold himself in place to keep from crossing the floor and wrapping his wings around Lex's frame, from picking him up and kissing him and telling him that he loved him more than the moon and the stars and the sun combined. "Lex," Brooklyn started, unable to keep the flood of feelings capped inside. "Lexington, if you ever talk like that again, I'll -"

"You'll what?" Lexington whispered, his eyes hopeful but watery. He looked at Brooklyn and trembled.

Brooklyn cracked a broken half smile. "I'll wrap you up and never let you go."

Lexington looked like he was on the edge of something - of hugging him, of crying. Of forgiving him.

He did not get the chance.

"This is all very nice," Owen droned from the doorway on the far side of the room. "But unless you want Mr. Xanatos to get even more upset, you need to come with me. Now."

The moment passed. Lexington shook his head, tucked himself close to Broadway's side, and did not look at Brooklyn again as they followed Owen down the same hallway he had led them through weeks back, when he had brought them to Lexington's room after his surgery. Brooklyn was sure they passed it along the way, but none of the gargoyles turned to look. There was nothing but bad memories there.

Owen took them down a short flight of stairs that seemingly went nowhere; they were faced with a stone wall, blank other than a small silver disc in the center. Owen withdrew a white badge from his front pocket, waved it in front of the disc, and after emitting a loud beeping noise, the wall slid open and revealed a large white room as pristine as any hospital Brooklyn had seen on TV. It smelled sharp and sterile. In the center of the room was a large vertical tank, filled with clear liquid but otherwise empty. The walls were lined with monitors, glowing buttons, and the counters had various lab equipment - microscopes, beakers, instruments Brooklyn didn't know the name of.

Lexington's hands curled tightly around Broadway's arm. "This is where he did it," he whispered, eyes wide and far away again, like they had been upstairs. "The surgery. I remember. I remember the smell, I remember those lights-" Lex's breathing started to quicken, a growing panic building in his bloodstream. Brooklyn could feel it racing in his own veins, and without thinking twice about it he reached out and placed a hand on Lex's shoulder. The smaller gargoyle did not flinch, did not shake him away - Brooklyn could feel calmness radiating from his touch, through Lex's body, taking root.

"It's okay. That's all over." When Lexington glanced up at him, Brooklyn offered a small smile. "Stay here with us, okay?"

Lexington's lower lip trembled. He bit it to keep it still, nodded, and the clan stepped into the room. The door shut quickly behind them. Hudson glared at it with his one good eye.

"This way, gentleman." Owen nodded stiffly past the tank. Each gargoyle took their turn staring at it as they passed. On the other side was a simple chair with long, flat armrests, big enough for all of them to sit comfortably. Owen himself perched on a stool and pulled a pair of latex gloves from a drawer.

"Are you going to explain what all of this is about?" Brooklyn finally asked, and Owen blinked, as if he had forgotten that they were still in the dark.

"Ah. Of course." With a snap of his glove, Owen faced them again. "I need a blood sample from each of you." His eyes settled on Lexington's, frames catching on the bright lights in a flash. "I already have a sample of yours from surgery, but it can never hurt to have extra."

Brooklyn's brow furrowed. "This is the special assignment Xanatos wants from us? A blood draw?"

A sculpted blonde brow perked at the question. "What were you expecting, exactly?"

"Oh, jeez, I don't know. Something more - Xanatos-like? Taking down another plane, stealing more cursed jewelry for his wife, breaking someone out of jail -?"

"Would you prefer a more challenging task?" Owen's foot bounced impatiently against the floor. "Or you would you like to go home?"

"I want you to tell me what's going on with Xanatos-"

Owen was on his feet so quickly it barely seemed possible within his human limitations. One hand was behind Brooklyn's head, the other clapped over the end of his beak. "Listen," Owen said tightly, hardly giving Brooklyn a moment to even process what just happened, "This is not - I did not know that it would happen like this."

Brooklyn narrowed his eyes and tore his beak free. "What are you talking about?"

Owen opened his mouth, closed it with a click of his teeth, and released Brooklyn as abruptly as he had grabbed him. He sat heavily on the stool again, faced the counter, and began preparing the syringes. "I do not have all night. One of you sit down. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can all go home."

Brooklyn looked at his clan. They were huddled together, frowning, just as lost as he was. With a huff, Brooklyn sat in the chair. He laid his arm flat along the rest, the ditch of his elbow facing up. When Owen turned to him, needle in hand, they met eyes for a moment, but the man could not hold them. He focused instead on the needle piercing through Brooklyn's flesh, straight into his vein.

"What do you think it was for?" Hudson asked under his breath as they followed Owen's shadow through the hallways of Wyvern castle, back to the main floor. Each gargoyle sported a tight bandage at the elbow.

"Why do you care what I think?" Brooklyn couldn't avoid the bitterness in his tone. Now that there was some distance between them and Xanatos, now that the immediate threat had passed and going home was on the horizon, all he could think about was being trapped there again, locked in the library, completely alone. He wasn't sure if he could bear it.

Hudson didn't bite. "Xanatos could cook up any sort of thing in that lab of his. What would he need our blood for?"

"Are you thinking out loud or do you really want me to answer?" Brooklyn shifted sideways to put some space between him and his elder.

"I'm askin' if you've got any idea what kind of nonsense he's up to. Nothin' else."

Brooklyn shook his head sharply. "You're just going to go back to treating me like garbage when we get home."

Ahead of them, Lex and Broadway glanced back.

"Lad," Hudson sighed heavily. His wings tucked close to his back. "You know what you did."

"Nothing I did warrants this!" Brooklyn hissed. "The punishment does not fit the crime, Hudson."

"Says who?" Lexington snapped, loud enough to draw Owen's eyes over his shoulder.

Brooklyn bristled. They ran out of dark hallway to continue the conversation; out in the main room, Xanatos waited. He looked only slightly more put together with his hair tied back and the suit of his jacket buttoned up. He raised a glass to them - the smell told Brooklyn it was wine - and sipped from it with a smile.

"Thank you so much for your contribution to Xanatos Enterprises," he announced, licking his lips. "Does anyone want to stay for a drink? No?" He chuckled, waving the clan off. "Fine. Go back to your boring existence. I'll be listening."

"If it's so boring, then why bother listening at all?" Lexington asked, tone and eyes sharp.

Xanatos smiled right back at him. "Because I'm learning so much about gargoyle relationships. It's all very fascinating. It is a lot like watching reality TV, except with monsters instead of people."

"Right, we're the monsters," Hudson mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

Xanatos went on as if Hudson hadn't said a word. "For example, the latest drama is all about Brooklyn and his betrayal, right?" He grinned, fingers tented.

Brooklyn snorted. "Betrayal is a strong word."

Lexington's scornful gaze shifted from Xanatos to Brooklyn. "I don't think it's strong enough."

"Are we really about to argue in front of him?" Brooklyn gestured to Xanatos with a sneer.

"Everything you do is front of me," Xanatos said, absolutely delighted. "Including your failed attempts of gargoyle lovemaking, which I am disappointed to say I haven't witnessed yet -"

"Shut up, Xanatos," Brooklyn said through clenched teeth.

"-and unfortunately Lexington here didn't have the heart - too soon? - to stick around when he saw you and Demona together, though I'm sure it was just fantastic, what with all the build up."

It was just like in the movies, the way time stopped. Brooklyn's brain felt like a lagging computer as it struggled to process very quickly what it had just heard. If Xanatos knew that Brooklyn and Demona had met in the graveyard, something Brooklyn had not bothered telling the clan about after they forced him down, then the only way he would have that information was because of Lexington, which meant -

The flicker of movement in his peripherals. The branch snapping. He had mistaken them both for birds.

Brooklyn, open mouthed, stared at Lexington, and everything, the cold glances and Don't touch me! and Hudson saying he deserved what he was being given, why he was forced down to begin with, their disappointment and anger - it all made sense.

It was absurd, but Brooklyn laughed.

"You were there!" Brooklyn's hand snaked into his hair, head thrown back in relief. "You saw Demona and I and you thought - you think I -" He laughed again, a strange and wild sound.

The clan looked on, completely dumbfounded. Even Xanatos was thrown off, his lips hovering over his glass of wine.

"Oh my god." Brooklyn's laughter cut abruptly short. "You think I - you think I would betray you like that?" He faced Lexington and Broadway, looked them right in the eyes. "Either of you? Both of you?"

"I saw - I saw her all over you," Lexington interjected. His expression was somewhere between hopeful and wary. Even Broadway was lit up.

"But you didn't see me fight her off when she showed up," Brooklyn said, spreading his arms. "I didn't go there to meet her. She followed me there. She wanted to join the clan." He looked at Hudson. "She talked about revenge, stability. And then she tried - what you saw - she tried to use my, Jesus, my fucked up hormones against me -" Brooklyn surprised himself by laughing again. "She was trying to take advantage of me. I told her to get lost."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hudson asked.

The absurdity of the moment faded along with his laughter. Brooklyn's shoulders fell forward. "You were all so angry," he started, a hand running over his hair. "I thought it was because I had failed you as a leader, because I left for a whole day without telling you where I was going."

"Brooklyn," Broadway said, voice echoed in shock. "You didn't say anything - we avoided you for weeks -"

The clan started to talk all at once, voices overlapping. Brooklyn could feel something bright inside of himself becoming warm again. He had not realized just how cold he had become.

"If you had just told us the truth -"

"We didn't know -"

"We thought you were going to leave us -"

"We are so -"

"Oh, Brooklyn -"

"Sorry."

"This is even better in person," Xanatos chirped over his wine.

A small green missile of a body slammed into his chest. This time, Lexington was not punching him, only holding on, arms wound so tightly around his ribcage he thought the bones might crack. He didn't care. Cocooning Lexington and himself within his wings, he could not have been more happy to be right there in that moment. And then enveloping them was an even larger warmth, Broadway's arms all around them, his tear-streaked face in Brooklyn's hair.

"It's okay, it's okay," Brooklyn said, kissing Lex's smooth head, Broadway's cheek. They assured him it wasn't, and they went back and forth, and it was an argument Brooklyn didn't mind at all.

Hudson somehow managed to get his hand on Brooklyn's hair. When Brooklyn looked at him, tears in his eyes, no words were said, but forgiveness was offered and accepted both ways. Over Hudson's shoulder, Owen and Xanatos watched, and Brooklyn would have sworn that Owen, at least, almost seemed relieved.

"I should have known," Xanatos spoke over them. The clan quieted reluctantly, throwing narrowed eyes in the human's direction. "Brooklyn is weak with love," he said, his voice sliding over the final word as if it were slime in his mouth.

"Remember what Goliath said." Brooklyn slipped out of the embrace of his clan, came up to Xanatos so he could stand toe-to-toe. He watched the human's pupils dilate until almost all of the color was gone. "Only you would regard love as a weakness."

Xanato's nostrils flared, he started to puff up like an angered primate preparing to attack, and just as before, Owen was suddenly there at his side. "Mr. Xanatos," he said, very softly near Xanatos' ear. "It's late."

And once again, Xanatos deflated at Owen's touch, this time just at his wrist. "I suppose." He stepped away from Brooklyn, allowing Owen to steer him toward an exit at the end of the room.

"Oi." Hudson shouted. He held out his hand. "My blade."

Owen stepped away from Xanatos and - Brooklyn blinked. Had the sword always been in his hand? The weapon seemed to materialize as if by a magic trick. Owen's face was as blank as ever as he placed it back in Hudson's possession. When he came back to Xanatos' side, he took the man gently by the elbow.

"Xanatos!" Brooklyn called. Lexington's hand filled one of his own, Broadway did the same with the other.

The human looked back.

Brooklyn knew he would not get a straight answer, if one at all. But he had to ask for his own sake. "What was the blood for?"

Xanatos flashed his teeth in a grin. "I'm sure you'll all see in time." He laughed. "It might seem a bit … familiar."

Brooklyn wished on every star he saw that he and his clan could have stayed suspended in the night sky that carried them home. On either side of him were Lex and Broadway, fingers tangled with his own. Occasionally, tears fell like raindrops to the city below. Brooklyn would tilt his wings in the draft to be close enough to kiss them away.

Up there, there was no artificial heart, no Xanatos, no missing clan members - just the love that made their clan so strong, a love that transcended everything, even the moon herself.

Brooklyn was happy. He knew that it would always seem this hopeful, that the happiness may or may not last, and that when they landed at the clocktower they'd be right back where they were with Xanatos, but they were in love again, they trusted him again, and no one was alone.

It might be a small victory, in the grand scheme of things. But he would gladly take it.

"Lad," Hudson said as the clan stepped onto the clocktower balcony. Lexington tucked himself firmly into Brooklyn's arms as if he had every intention of living there, and Broadway was just a moment after, his arms winding around him from behind.

Brooklyn felt whole again.

"I understand if ya don't want the job," Hudson continued, looking at the trio fondly, hands on his hips. "But it's yours, you know. If you want."

"Will you help me be better?" Brooklyn's chest swelled. He nuzzled the top of Lex's head, nudged Broadway with his shoulder. "All of you?"

"Of course, son. That's what clan is for. I think we might've forgotten for a spell." Hudson blinked suddenly and looked away.

Lexington laughed and reached out for him, and Hudson didn't have to be asked twice. He somehow encompassed all of them in his embrace, squeezing them close and tight.

"I miss them," Hudson sighed over their heads. "But I think we're gonna make it."

For the first time, Brooklyn believed those words.

Brooklyn lead the way into the clocktower, Lex tucked under one arm, Broadway close behind, and Hudson at the rear. Broadway was saying something about one of his favorite movies playing on TV, and how they should all get downstairs before it started, and Hudson said he would start dinner, and Brooklyn closed his eyes against Lex's head to relish their brief moment of normalcy. It might not be perfect, it might be missing something, but right then, it was just right.

Lexington's arms around him jerked him to a halt at the head of the stairs. Behind him, the rest of the clan stopped, too. Brooklyn's eyes opened first on Lexington's profile, then pulled away to where the other gargoyle's eyes were focused.

The four of them caught their breath all at the same time.

In front of them, down the stairs, a figure turned around. And then another. And yet two more.

Above them, the moon sighed in relief.

Brooklyn, heart in his throat, tears in his eyes, mind reeling at a million miles an hour, somehow, some way, found his voice.

"Goliath?"


	9. Chapter 9

Trigger Warnings for this chapter: none!

* * *

Chapter Nine

Brooklyn remembered this dream. He had lived it nearly every night since they had disappeared and it was always the same; Goliath waiting for him in the main room, Brooklyn running into his open arms, and Goliath saying he was sorry. It was soft and it was gentle and it broke him into smaller pieces every evening with the abrupt awakening of stone becoming flesh again. There was never any real relief because even in his dreams, Brooklyn knew that this was only pain taking form in his subconscious and Goliath's arms always dissolved into nothing. It always ended.

He stood at the top of the stairs just vaguely aware of Lexington's body wrapped around his side and Broadway's warmth at his back and he waited. He waited for Goliath to fade like a mirage in the desert. He waited for the figures at his side to blend with shadow and for the room to empty. He waited to wake up, painfully, again.

Even as he was jostled with the movement of the gargoyles near him rushing down the stairs, even as their delighted cries rang high in the clocktower, even as he watched the first contact between his clan and Goliath occur right in front of him, Brooklyn still waited. His heart was full. His eyes were wet. He closed them and begged for it to end before it broke his heart.

"Brooklyn?"

Goliath's voice pulled him from his desperate prayers. It was not an echo, not the call of a ghost. It was solid and bold and real, it filled the clocktower and his chest. When Brooklyn looked down, Goliath was smiling tenderly over Lexington's shoulder, whose wiry body was wrapped tightly around his own. Beside him, Broadway scooped up Elisa under her arms and swung her in a triumphant circle, a smile too big for his mouth on his face. And Hudson was nearly knocked flat on the floor, smothered in Bronx's kisses.

Brooklyn met Goliath's eyes again. He took one tentative step down, afraid that if he moved any closer, the dream would shatter, that the elaborate seams would come undone.

If this was fake, he didn't care, as long as he didn't wake up again, as long as it never ended. He wasn't sure if he would survive waking up.

Brooklyn's brain was not in his feet but they moved down the stairs nonetheless; as he came closer, Goliath bent at the knees so Lexington was safe on the floor. His hand cupped Lex's cheek as he pulled away and he whispered something gentle into his ear. Lex sobbed, pulled away far enough so that he could look at Brooklyn behind him, where the gargoyle had come to a stop just a yard away.

Goliath met his eyes and wrinkled his brow in concern, and Brooklyn had a sense that Golaith was anticipating something, shifting his gaze from Brooklyn's face to his hands and back again. And then he opened his large arms and smiled, just like in his dreams, and that was all the invitation Brooklyn needed.

With a loud cry, Brooklyn slammed into Goliath's chest. Feeling his warmth, his strong arms all around him, his smell, the way his black hair filled the spaces between his fingers, it was all too much to be a dream. Brooklyn's doubt was swallowed by a cascade of relief and tears.

"I am sorry," Goliath said into his ear, a strong hand in Brooklyn's white hair. "I'm home."

Brooklyn cried, tightened his arms around Goliath's shoulders, and buried his face into the gargoyle's neck. Every tainted thought he had had while Goliath was away turned to smoke in his heart and dissipated. Goliath was already forgiven.

Goliath relaxed at his touch where Brooklyn held on desperately, like if he didn't Goliath would just float away, and he mumbled soft reassurances into Brooklyn's ear and Brooklyn could not speak. He could only cry.

When Goliath's arms loosened around his waist it was only because Broadway was waiting, and Brooklyn pulled back so he could meet Goliath's eyes before stepping away. They were damp but he was smiling with as much relief as Brooklyn felt himself, and he realized then that he had never, in all the time Goliath had been gone, considered that he missed them as much as they did.

Brooklyn ran the tips of his fingers across the ridges at Goliath's brow and shook his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe it," Brooklyn managed, somehow, between hiccups. "It's … you're …"

"I'm right here," Goliath said. He found Brooklyn's hand and pressed the flat of his palm to his broad chest. Goliath blinked and tears fell from his eyes. "And if I can help it, I am never leaving you again."

He squeezed his hand around Brooklyn's, then turned his gaze to Broadway, who filled up the space between his arms like he had been molded for it. Brooklyn stepped back to watch the two embrace. He could barely take his eyes off of Goliath - he was so beautiful and so real and there, right there, and Brooklyn could reach out and touch him again if he wanted to, and he had never realized what a privilege that was.

Lexington's laughter pulled his eyes away and he saw Bronx knocking the small gargoyle onto his back so he could lick his face and neck, and then the beast caught the smell of something and pressed his nose flat to Lexington's chest, right over the scar that ran the length of his sternum. Bronx whined and looked up at Lexington quizzically. Lex had already paled, squirming out from under the creature and getting himself to his feet again. Brooklyn started to call out for him, but Elisa was suddenly right in front of him, and the sight of her shocked him all over again. She hugged him hard and close and she smelled just the same, like the leather of her jacket and something floral in her hair, and Brooklyn had to remind himself that he couldn't hold her as hard, that her fragile human bones could break from how much he missed her.

"You're safe," Brooklyn sighed, wings half around her. He leaned away to meet her eyes, bright and relieved.

"I thought we'd never make it home," she said, voice tight. He could tell that even now she was doing her best to remain as calm as possible - a cop right to the marrow. She squeezed Brooklyn's shoulders. "My brother, how is he? Is he okay? My parents?"

"They're fine. We've been checking up on them, and Talon was just here not that long ago." Brooklyn felt her melt in his hold. "They're going to be so happy to see you. Speaking of." Brooklyn nodded behind her, and when Elisa turned she gave an elated cry as Cagney's sleek gray body bounded across the room and leaped right into her arms. Elisa's resolve cracked and she cried into his fur.

It was Brooklyn's turn to be all but knocked to the floor by Bronx, who whimpered at his feet. "Hey, boy!" Brooklyn knelt and braced himself against Bronx's massive paws on his chest, laughing as his tongue cleared every inch of his face. Brooklyn looked over his wagging body to see Hudson against Goliath's chest, openly weeping, barely standing with relief. Goliath's head was cradled against the elder's, eyes closed, mumbling as his hand stroked the length of Hudson's hair.

Brooklyn palmed Bronx's head as he stood straight again, watching his family reunited, and he thought to himself that he could have been struck by lightning just then and died where he stood and if this was the last thing he ever saw, then he would die happy.

The nightmare, he thought, must be over, now. Everything always fell into place with Goliath. They could rest again. They could be at peace again. Things would be normal again.

Movement behind Goliath caught Brooklyn's eyes and he froze, heart racing as he saw Demona's shadow. As the figure stepped closer, however, into the light, and everyone in the room seemed to acknowledge the stranger all at once, Brooklyn was only slightly less relieved; it was not Demona, but it was a girl. A gargoyle, with hair and skin like Goliath and Demona's eyes.

The shocked silence was broken by Goliath. He stepped away from Hudson and placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. She brought her hands together and looked out at the rest of them hopefully.

"I have a very long story to tell," Goliath said, and smiled down at her warmly, like a father does a child.

Brooklyn blinked hard. He met Broadway and Lex's eyes across the room.

It would be a very long story, indeed.

* * *

All that was missing was a warm fire in the center of the tight circle the clan wove around Goliath. Brooklyn felt like a hatchling again, tucked within Goliath's massive wing, Lexington between his knees with his back to Brooklyn's chest, and Broadway filling up Goliath's opposite side. Across Broadway's lap, Goliath held Hudson's hand, and even Bronx was doing his best to touch all of them all at once, draped over Goliath's legs on his back, feet in the air, asleep and calm.

Wholeness was something Brooklyn had long since abandoned as ever being possible again - a distant memory that only served to break him further down the more he dwelled on it. And part of him still feared that at any moment, a sudden movement or loud sound would tear apart the fabric of the illusion, and he'd be right back in the fracture again, but reality stayed just where it was meant to. Brooklyn finally allowed himself to fully embrace his relief, and for what felt like the hundredth time, he started crying again. Goliath's free arm tightened around him as he continued his story.

Goliath's Odyssey seemed like it had come straight out of one of his books: Egyptian gods, urban legends, fallen kings brought back to life. They were fantastic and strange and every one of them true. Goliath had always been a colorful storyteller; his eyes were bright with recollection, he left no detail untouched, motioned with his wings and hands as much as he could before returning them back to the clan around him, recounted how he felt, what color the sky was, mimicked the roaring of beasts and the calls of old spirits. Brooklyn was just as engrossed as the rest of his clan, entranced like children, waiting with bated breath for the next impossible tale.

He told them of other gargoyle clans all around the world. Hudson said, with a dreamy smile, "We are not the last."

Goliath nodded eagerly. "Avalon finally freed us," he said, looking among his clan fondly. "And now with Angela here, we are an even bigger, happier family."

The clan turned to her all at once and Angela's cheeks burned at the attention. Brooklyn still couldn't believe it - the eggs surviving had not so much as crossed his mind after Xanatos told them they were the last of their kind, and he supposed that trusting Xanatos to tell the truth (or, perhaps in this case, to even know the truth) was his first mistake. And here was the proof, flesh and blood right in front of him.

Elisa made a point of saying she was Goliath's daughter, though that meant little to the rest of them. Gargoyle children were the offspring of everyone; biology was never as important as clan. But Brooklyn could certainly see, aside from her physical traits, that she had Goliath in her; she had his gentleness and his kind, intelligent eyes.

Angela smiled nervously, glancing between Goliath and Elisa as if for strength before finally speaking. "I'm happy to finally meet all of you," she said, her smile broadening sincerely. "I've heard all about you. In fact, it feels as if I already know you."

Brooklyn offered the warmest smile he could, though he hesitated to agree - she might have known them if they had been the same people Goliath told her about. But much had changed, them most of all, and Brooklyn felt like a stranger, even to himself. "We're glad you're here. I wish -" He paused, unsure, glancing at Goliath. "I wish we were in better shape."

"You guys do look pretty … ragged," Elisa said, as gently and as politely as she could. She wrapped her arms around her knees and looked at each of them with concern.

"Yes," Goliath noted, his hand unwinding from Hudson's to run the back of his fingers across Broadway's cheek. Broadway turned to his lap and frowned. "Something has happened since I've been away. You all look so thin. So tired." He froze and turned abruptly to Brooklyn. "How long has it been?"

Brooklyn did not think he had been keeping track anymore, but apparently a part of him had because the number came to him almost as soon as Goliath finished the question. "One hundred and fifty-five days."

"One hundred and fifty-five days?!" Elisa rocked forward. Her hands slipped into her hair and she stared open mouthed at the floor for several seconds, silently processing. When she finally spoke again, it was with total disbelief. "That's … that's over five months. That's almost half a year."

Goliath stared in shock at the wall on the other side of the room.

"How long did you think it was?" Hudson asked quietly.

Shaking his head slowly, Goliath brought a hand to his head. "A little over a month, maybe. Two, at most." He closed his eyes. "Time passes differently on Avalon," he whispered, as if he were remembering something. He flinched his hand away and looked at Broadway, then Hudson, Lexington, and finally Brooklyn. His expression hung heavily. "I am sorry. I did not realize-"

The abrupt silence forced the clan to look at him. Goliath's eyes were stuck on Lexington again, wide and almost frightened, as if Lexington had suddenly changed color. Goliath pulled both hands free and placed each on Lex's slim shoulders. "Lexington," he half cried, staring right at the gargoyle's chest - at the violent purple scar. "What happened -?"

Lexington yanked away from him. He scrambled out of Brooklyn's lap and to his feet and the clan quickly followed. Wings wound tight around himself, Lex ducked away from Goliath's outreached hands. "Don't," Lexington said, his voice sharp as a blade. "Don't touch it." His eyes were drawn tight, almost angry.

Goliath's arms slowly lowered. He searched the gargoyles near him for an answer, but none offered. They all watched on with either blank or terrified stares. "Brooklyn," Goliath demanded, and Brooklyn jumped, wondering why it was being asked of him - and then, of course. Because that was his job, to report back to his leader.

Brooklyn's knees weakened. He did not want Goliath to know how poorly he had done his job.

No, he thought sourly. How he had failed miserably at his job.

Elisa and Angela watched on in anxious silence.

"Tell me what happened to him," Goliath said again.

Brooklyn remained still. He met Lexington's horrified eyes. Behind him, Broadway began to breathe heavily.

None of them wanted to relive that nightmare again. Although each of them took sole blame, none wanted to admit it to someone who had not been there, least of all Goliath.

Goliath would have never let any of this happen, Brooklyn reminded himself with a wince, and looked at Lex and Broadway and Hudson, all quiet and lost and each broken in their own way, and all because he could not keep them safe.

And now, even with Goliath home, they would never be safe again.

"Brooklyn." Goliath's hand closed around his second's shoulder.

Brooklyn shook his head and stepped away. A hand pressed hard over his eyes. "I failed them," he said, chest and voice tight. "I didn't know how to be leader and everyone got hurt-"

"It's my fault," Broadway interrupted. He stepped close to Goliath's side and touched his arm. "Don't be angry with him."

Goliath shook his head, lost. "I'm not angry, I just want an explanation. Lexington is scarred-"

"Stop!" Lexington shouted, hands over his ears. He folded in on himself, becoming even smaller."It was my fault, not Broadway's, not Brooklyn's -!"

"I let them go alone," Hudson whispered to himself, eyes hollow.

"Everyone, let's just calm down," Elisa said, arms spread out, but no one so much as glanced at her.

Angela looked out across the growing tension and panic with frantic eyes. "Father?"

If Brooklyn had not been so occupied with keeping himself from exploding, he might have given a thought to what a human thing that was to say.

"Enough." Goliath did not shout, but his voice was big enough to make everyone still and quiet again.

Brooklyn reluctantly pulled his hands away from his face. He was not worthy to stand before Goliath, who had just returned from a journey more wild than Brooklyn could ever have imagined, where he saved lives and changed fates and fulfilled destinies. Embarrassed was too tame a word for what he felt - he was ashamed. And now he would be forced to tell Goliath every detail, every wrong choice that led them to where they stood, under Xanatos' thumb, missing vital parts, and traumatized to the bone.

At his wing, a gentle nudging. Lexington wormed his way into Brooklyn's arms. He wrapped his arms around the small gargoyle, cradled the back of his head, and sighed.

"I have a very long story to tell," Brooklyn croaked, tightening his hold. When he looked at Goliath, his eyes were wet, and it was not with relief anymore.

Goliath held his gaze for several seconds before giving a somber nod. "Elisa," he said, turning to face her. "After everything we have been through, I hate to ask you for a favor."

She smiled tenderly back at him. "You know I'd do anything for you guys."

Goliath's lips pressed in a tight line. "Let's take you home. Angela, I need you to come with us."

"You're leaving?" Broadway blurted. Panic rooted him to the spot.

"Please don't," Lexington begged, winding himself out of Brooklyn's arms and reaching for Goliath. The larger gargoyle gently closed his hands over Lexington's.

"I will not be long," Goliath assured, but the clan looked at each other anxiously.

Elisa gave each of them another hug before she scooped Cagney into her arms, waved his little paw back at them, and joined Goliath and Angela on the balcony. The remaining gargoyles watched them jump into the night, and they stayed there, huddled together, pretending that they were not counting the very seconds that went by until he came back.

* * *

"I don't know where to start."

Goliath held both of Brooklyn's hands in his own. They sat side by side on the banister of the balcony, facing the clocktower. The rest of the clan waited inside, all three of them torn between wanting to be as close to Goliath as possible and not wanting to listen to the story of their failures or watch Goliath's reaction to it all. None of them had looked at Brooklyn with any envy when the clocktower door closed behind them.

He turned to the sky. It was still dark above them but the edges were becoming lighter; sunrise was coming, morning would soon flood the world yellow, and they would sleep. He wondered if any of them would actually rest now that Goliath was home - he had thought as much, but when he met Goliath's eyes again, he realized that his return had only fixed one problem. The rest remained exactly as it was.

Brooklyn shifted and squeezed Goliath's hands. "You didn't have to send Angela away. We want her here, too," he said, barely concealing the fact that he was avoiding the subject. Perhaps if they talked about nothing in particular until sunrise - which Brooklyn would love, personally - then they'd turn to stone before he had to say another word about it.

Goliath shook his head. He looked up at the clocktower with a deep fondness. "She understands that you and the others need my full attention right now. Elisa will take good care of her."

"She seems nice," Brooklyn said. "I still can't believe all of the eggs survived. That they're out there right now."

"And happy, too." Goliath smiled warmly. "There has been a significant degree of human influence on them. They all have names. They talk of mothers and fathers and find great significance in those titles." He shrugged, running his thumb across the back of Brooklyn's hand. "You would have helped to raise them, had the Wyvern massacre never occurred. You would have thought of them as your children, too."

Brooklyn blinked. He had never thought of that, even back then, when he knew the eggs were in the rookery. He had been a teenager - he technically still was.

He almost laughed. He certainly felt a thousand years old these days.

One of his hands went cold as Goliath's pulled away from it, only to touch him gently at the side of his face. Brooklyn met his eyes with a captured breath and was almost overwhelmed all over again just at the sight of his leader - real and alive and right in front of him.

"I gave up on you," Brooklyn said, blinking hard. "I gave you up for dead. I wanted you to be dead because not knowing was killing me. Killing all of us."

Goliath pulled Brooklyn close. "It is alright."

"You wouldn't have given up on any of us that easily," Brooklyn sniffled against Goliath's chest, whose grip tightened around him.

"You did what you could with the skills you had. I did not have time to teach you everything. You could not have possibly been prepared for an absence this long. Or what happened to Lexington, which has clearly affected everyone. Severely." Goliath leaned away and found Brooklyn's eyes again. "Tell me, Brooklyn. And do not fear that I am going to judge you. I promise you that nothing that happened was your fault. It is mine for leaving. It is mine for not making it back fast enough."

Brooklyn shook his head furiously. "You couldn't help-"

"That's enough." Goliath silenced him with a hand. "I am leader. I take responsibility."

Although Brooklyn could never be convinced that Goliath was at fault for anything, it was nice to not be leader. It was nice to not have to formally carry that weight anymore.

Brooklyn deflated, curled against Goliath's chest, and sighed. He held onto him tightly. "I don't know where to start," Brooklyn repeated. The wind around him almost stole the words away.

Goliath rested his chin on Brooklyn's head. "Begin when I left you."

Brooklyn closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

* * *

When he was finished, Brooklyn felt as if he had lived through it all over again. His eyes burned, his heart hurt, and he seemed so impossibly heavy that he was sure the wind would never be able to carry him again.

Goliath never let him go. He listened in absolute silence and although Brooklyn could not see his face, he could sense the fury building in him like a small flame devouring the world to become a wildfire; the heat of Goliath's skin seared Brooklyn where it met his own. Only the crisp breeze seemed to keep both of them from going up in smoke.

For a long while after, there was only silence. Brooklyn looked across Goliath's arm, over the ledge, and watched tiny dots of cars crawl down the strip of road. The city was so small from up there and he could pretend that everyone at the bottom had small problems, too. He studied each speck of a person as they strolled down the sidewalk and jaywalked through the street. It was very early morning and this was the crowd that rose before the sun, a strange eclipse where human life met gargoyle, whether or not they knew it, whether or not they even believed. He wondered how many of them were thinking about work, on their way to get coffee, trying to catch a cab.

Brooklyn suddenly longed to be human, to live close to the ground. At least then there was not such a great distance to fall.

"Moon bonded."

Whatever Brooklyn had been waiting for Goliath to say, it was not that.

"What?" Brooklyn pulled away, brow furrowed.

Goliath's eyes were on the crescent of the fading moon. "Moon bonded. I believe the closest human term would be … soulmate. Generations ago," Goliath began, one arm tightening around Brooklyn while the other gestured toward the sky. "Gargoyles believed that the stone that made the first of our kind was moonstone, that every hatchling after was dusted with it when they emerged from the rookery on their first night. That is how the ancient gargoyles believed our souls entered our bodies." Goliath smiled faintly. He looked at Brooklyn. "To be moon bonded meant that two or more gargoyles shared an exceptionally strong relationship. Closer than rookery siblings, even closer than mates. They could sense what each other were feeling. If one was lost, the others could see through their eyes and find them again. Sometimes, they became so close, they could not tell their own feelings apart. The old gargoyles said that these bonds could only form if the moonstone that fell on you as a hatchling came from the exact same spot. Essentially, moon bonded gargoyles share pieces of one soul." Goliath nodded toward the clocktower. "You and Broadway and Lexington all hatched together, emerged from the rookery together, and looked up at the moon for the first time together. Watching you three grow was spectacular - you were never far from one another, almost joined at the hips. It is why we referred to you as the trio, as if you were one entity." Goliath's eyes were distant, reaching far into the past. "I have always thought you might be moon bonded, but now I am certain. You see through them and your feelings are as much theirs as they are yours. It is a beautiful thing. Something to be treasured." Goliath's face fell. He looked out across the city with narrowed eyes. "It can also be debilitating should your bonded partner die, or become … someone else."

Brooklyn had a flash of Demona in his mind, standing in the graveyard, saying she had felt Goliath leave.

"You're moon bonded," Brooklyn whispered. "To Demona."

Goliath's jaw tightened. He nodded. "After we awoke here in Manhattan, I secretly hoped you would not be moon bonded, as obvious as it was, because I did not want any of you at the risk of feeling what I did when I thought she died." He frowned. "It was strange. I could still feel her. I thought it was because of our bond … I was not even feeling the full extent of the pain that comes with losing a moon bond, and it was still the worst I had ever experienced. Until, of course, I found her here, alive but changed." He put a hand over his chest and bowed his head. "All of her anger and hate was poison. It was so strong I could barely tell myself apart from her. That first night, when I chose to save Elisa instead of Demona, it broke something beyond repair inside of me. It always aches, even now."

Brooklyn touched Golitah's arm. "The bond didn't break?"

Goliath's smile said nothing of happiness. "It never does. And not unlike you, I would have prefered that she died back at the Wyvern castle, except in this case it is a matter of knowing far too well what has happened and seeing who she has become." Goliath cleared his throat and tried to brighten his smile - it did not work, but the attempt was appreciated. "But after all that has happened, I am relieved that you are moon bonded, Brooklyn. You have done right by them - and Hudson, too. You kept them alive. I am proud of you. And as long as we stay together, as long as I am here …" Goliath nodded again, more to himself than to Brooklyn. "Then you will never lose them like I have Demona. I promise you, I will not let that happen."

Brooklyn could not process what Goliath had said - not about being moon bonded. That explained a lot of things, but really only gave a name to something he had already known. Of course there was something special to him and Broadway and Lexington - a transcendence, almost supernatural. His love for them could not be contained by words alone. He didn't think the moon herself had enough surface to hold what he felt for just one of them, let alone both.

What Brooklyn could not wrap his mind around was Goliath's pride in him, how he could possibly still look at him with even a sliver of respect, as if nothing had gone wrong at all, as if they weren't all just shells of who they used to be. It was his responsibility to keep everyone together and safe and he had just barely kept them alive. He had scraped at the bare minimum. How could Goliath look at Lexington's vicious scar and Broadway's empty eyes and Hudson's brokenness and believe for a second that Brooklyn had done a decent job?

"Lexington almost died," Brooklyn said in disbelief. "I walked him right into a trap. I carried him into another. I brought him to Xanatos myself. And now he's stuck with a trigger to his head for the rest of his life. We're all under his control now." He swallowed thickly and looked away. "Forever."

Goliath's face softened. "Brooklyn. Look at me." He waited until Brooklyn obeyed, then carefully took the younger gargoyle's hands into his own. "You are still an adolescent in gargoyle years. You are not even half the age I was when I became leader and received none of the many years of training that I did, that all the leaders before you did. You might not believe me, but you did well." He sighed and faced the clocktower again. "If I had been here when Lexington was injured … I would have done the same thing and gone to Xanatos. There would have been no other option. Even if I had known the consequences, that it was all a trap, if it meant Lexington would live … I would have made the same choice."

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn said, and covered his eyes with his hands.

"Brooklyn." Goliath's voice was warmer than the sun. "There is nothing to forgive."

Brooklyn's beak touched his chest, shoulders trembling with sobs. Goliath bowed his head until white hair touched his lips. "I am so proud of you. Thank you for taking care of them," he said, and Brooklyn cried, throwing his arms around Goliath and crushing himself to his chest. Large wings closed around him like the walls of a castle. He was safe. He was loved.

He was home.

* * *

For the first time in months, the last of the Wyvern clan stood on the balcony of the clocktower together, with Goliath at the head. They did not speak of what they were going to do about Xanatos, about Lexington's heart, or even what tomorrow would bring; the night had been eventful enough and Brooklyn ached for one day of rest where he did not have to dream of ghosts. Goliath assured them as the sun broke the horizon that the days to come would be better. He promised. And everyone, without question, believed him.

While stone, Brooklyn dreamed he was on the moon, and he looked down at Earth through three pairs of eyes but felt one heartbeat. Somewhere, a song.

When night shattered him awake, Brooklyn was calm and turned to face Goliath with a deep sigh of relief; yesterday was real. Today was real. Tomorrow would come and Goliath's promises would stay true because they always did.

Brooklyn turned to face Broadway and Lexington - to see the hope he felt in his heart reflected on their faces - only to have that very heart sink into his stomach.

Broadway saw Brooklyn's shocked expression, turned, and mirrored it.

Behind Broadway, Lexington's platform was empty.

Brooklyn blinked and felt wind all around him, as if he were falling.

Broadway and Brooklyn looked first at each other, hearts hammering at the same frantic tempo, and then over the edge - down at Manhattan, at the shadow of Lexington's body growing smaller and smaller as it sailed toward the ground.


	10. Chapter 10

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: self mutilation, blood, gore. It is brief but detailed.

* * *

Chapter Ten

If Brooklyn had been asked to choose the most terrifying moment of his life even a few moments before, he would have been eternally caught in a tragic tie between watching Broadway turn to stone midair and Lexington being shot. Those two events were branded on the insides of each of his eyelids, only a blink away from being projected onto his mind again like an old movie, its film warped thin from rolling every single time he closed his eyes and yet each detail remained just as sharp and vivid as the very moments they occurred.

Unbelievably, Brooklyn thought to himself, in the milliseconds before he dropped off of the clocktower, he might have found a tiebreaker. And in a cruel turn of events, it had somehow become a marriage of the two that preceded it: Lexington, plummeting toward the earth, the wind ripping through limp wings, and the shrinking sound of his tortured screams as pain and gravity sank him like stone in a river.

Diving headfirst with one arm outstretched and wings tucked tight, Brooklyn sailed like a red-leather bullet, streaming the length of the clocktower. Just a second behind to his left, Broadway called out Lexington's name. He could not tell if Goliath and Hudson had jumped, too, aware of little outside of the sight caught in his scope - Lexington's tiny body becoming smaller against the backdrop of the pavement rushing up to meet him.

Lexington's body writhed midair. He rolled so that he faced the fast approaching ground and managed to spring his wings open - it was only for a moment, but it was long enough to catch a draft, to slow his descent, to give Brooklyn a second to close some of the distance between them.

It had to be enough, because Lexington's anguished screams told Brooklyn that Xanatos was pushing the button with the full of his thumb, and if he couldn't reach him then nobody could, and the sidewalk was so close now that he could make out the color of the hair of people walking beneath them. Lexington's cries pulled those heads up, to pry through the darkness, to try and make sense of the figures falling from the sky.

Brooklyn's heart climbed into his throat and its frantic pulse filled his ears with a deafening thunder. "Lex!" He called, because he was close now, close enough that Brooklyn could see Lexington's muscles seizing and his eyes disappearing into the back of his head. Brooklyn sucked in his stomach, forced his wings closer to his body, and pinned his feet together at the ankles. Wind burned his eyes and tears tore away to race like raindrops flying back to the clouds. He blinked them away and saw flashes in that microsecond: Broadway's skin thickening with stone while suspended in the sunrise, Lexington's body draining in his arms - and Lex's body, again, crushed against the pavement, lifeless and still and empty and dead, dead, dead -

The ground filled up his vision. It was going to swallow Lexington whole.

"No!" Brooklyn cried, and reached out until he could feel the skin of Lexington's legs just under his talons. He pushed forward, closed his hand tightly around Lex's ankle, and yanked hard. Lexington's chest slammed into his own, arms locked around the smaller form like a buoy, and with the very smell of the pavement in his nose, Brooklyn's wings shot open.

Yards. Maybe a few feet. That was all that separated them from becoming one with the earth. Brooklyn grunted with the strain of Lexington's body heaved into his arms and the force of the abrupt stop on his wings; he looked down into the face of a human standing just below them, a mane of red hair billowed away from their shoulders like a cape, and their mouth slack in shock, almost awe. Their eyes met briefly, human and gargoyle, just as the draft began to force Brooklyn and Lexington away. The human did not look scared. Confused, certainly, but mostly worried.

Brooklyn longed, for a moment, to reassure that stranger that everything would be all right, though he hadn't the foggiest idea why. Was that the leader in him? To calm someone he did not know in the middle of the worst moment of his life?

Or was it just the liar in him, the denial in him, because the moment was not yet over?

It could only be the latter because there was no leader in him, he reminded himself, and Lexington's limp body in his arms - and everything leading up to that - proved it.

Broadway and Goliath met him halfway up the clocktower, both in a panic, though Broadway's was more vocal. He cried, touched Lexington's head and spoke to him, while Goliath, on the other hand, met Brooklyn's eyes heavily and in silence.

Goliath had been warned that Xanatos held this power but it was nothing compared to witnessing it and Brooklyn could tell that he was only now beginning to understand the storm they had been struggling to survive in while he was away and that his return had not kept it from raging on.

Hudson took Lexington from Brooklyn's arms at the balcony and he seemed as if he had aged a decade between then and Lexington tumbling over the edge. He cradled him like a babe into the clocktower with the other three gargoyles close at his heels and deposited him gently on the recliner. By then, Lexington was starting to regain consciousness, fighting to keep his eyes open, arms and legs twitching at random intervals as the shock echoed through him.

"Before," Goliath said, standing at Brooklyn's side, though neither of them took their eyes off of Lexington in the center of the room. "You said that Xanatos used this device as means of punishment, warning, or to otherwise get your attention."

Brooklyn nodded shortly.

"I do not understand. What warranted it this time?"

"That's just it," Brooklyn sighed, kneeling beside the recliner and taking Lexington's cold hand into his own. "I don't think Xanatos has a reason. I think he's just having fun."

Broadway stood at Brooklyn's side, a hand in the kneeling gargoyle's hair, and together they watched Lexington slowly come back to himself, face strained with something akin to urgency. The hand in Brooklyn's tightened into a fist, the other clutched at the skin over where his heart would be. Hazy eyes struggled to hold either of the faces in front of him but his mouth worked like there were so many words in it, his tongue couldn't decide which to say first.

"Calm down, Lex," Brooklyn said as gently as he could, but Lexington shook his head, his eyes searching wildly beyond their shoulders.

"Goliath," he managed, and his leader appeared at once on the other side of the chair. "He wants you," he continued, tears building in the corners of his eyes. "On the way down, he said - I -" A tremor rocked Lexington's body all the way to his toes. "He wants you to go there. Tonight."

Goliath tightened his jaw. "Is he listening now?"

"Always." Lexington replied without missing a beat.

"Then I will come." He leaned forward and flattened his palm on Lexington's chest. "And I am sorry that you are the messenger. I will make this right, Lexingon. I swear it."

Lexington's lower lip trembled. "It hurts, Goliath." He gave a weak shake of his head. "It hurts so much. I don't want to do it anymore."

"I know, my son. I know." Goliath's hand shifted to cup Lexington's face, the enormity of it making Lex look so much smaller than he already was. "You are so strong. You are so brave."

"No!" He tried to sit up, shoving Goliath's arm away. "I'm tired and I'm scared and I don't want him to hurt me anymore!" The heels of Lexington's hands pushed hard into his eyes. "He took my heart out! I'm not even alive! And he keeps hurting me over and over again-!"

"Lex," Brooklyn and Broadway spoke in unison. "It's going to be okay," Broadway continued, and tried to reach for the smaller gargoyle but Lexington shook his head so hard his neck popped. Fighting to get his body to do as he commanded, Lexington grabbed the armrests and dragged himself forward until his feet touched the floor.

"It's not going be okay," Lexington cried. His body shook so hard that his voice wavered like he was submerged in cold water. "Not if we don't play dirty, like he does." Lexington managed to find some footing and dared to stand. When Brooklyn stood and tried to reach for him, to support him, Lexington's arms flailed to keep him back. Lexington swayed for a moment, finding his balance, and though he looked exhausted with even that small effort, he did not fall. Cringing, he took a careful step forward, then another, and the remaining gargoyles watched him slowly move down the hallway. He used the wall for support when he reached it and glanced back once before the shadows swallowed him. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something but ultimately chewed his lip and remained silent. He pressed on, and a moment later there was the click of the tinkering room door shutting behind him.

Brooklyn roared. His claws punctured the fabric of the armrest, bubbles of white foam rising through the tears, and Brooklyn pretended it was Xanatos' flesh instead, beads of his blood instead, and gave a violent jerk until the chair toppled several feet away onto its side with a satisfying crack as something inside of it broke. Brooklyn hated that for a half a second he felt bad about ruining a fucking chair and it only fueled the already burning flame of his frustration and anger. He could tell that Broadway was peeking through the veil of his dissociative state to feed into Brooklyn's easily tapped fury with his own growing emotions whether he was aware of it or not; while sometimes the bond felt like a single song, other times it was more like different chords of a guitar, or three separate keys on a piano, each making their own sound but together becoming indistinguishable. He could feel Broadway's anger thrumming in time with his own and the song this time was not beautiful. It just hurt.

He couldn't remember the last time it didn't hurt.

"What are we going to do?" Broadway spoke quietly, his voice deeper than Brooklyn was used to, and only slightly tense. He had always been able to curb his temper much better than Brooklyn who, contrastingly, was standing beside a broken chair and panting heavily.

Brooklyn wondered not for the first time why, exactly, he had been chosen as second.

Hudson wordlessly picked up the overturned chair until it was sitting upright. And then he just stood there and stared at it, as if that was the only thing in the world that could possibly be done, as if that was all that was left in their power to control. The elder looked wordlessly, helplessly, at Goliath. They all did, with expectation and hope.

But Goliath looked just as lost.

Brooklyn felt like he was collapsing on the inside. "I know what we're going to do," he said. His hands suddenly felt very hot and he glanced at them in brief confusion - they remained empty, and he thought maybe his blood actually was beginning to boil under the skin. "We're going to kill Xanatos."

Goliath's eyes sharpened. "Brooklyn, listen -"

"No. You listen. You haven't seen Xanatos yet. You didn't see the way he laughed at us, at Lexington, the way he all but got off to torturing him. You didn't see him make me beg for his help. I don't know what's wrong with him and I don't really care. If he doesn't die, Goliath, if he isn't stopped, then Lexington could die. If not by Xanatos himself, then -" Brooklyn's voice shattered on the final words - his next breath ripped through him like blades.

"No." Goliath shook his head slowly. "He will not die."

"You don't know -"

"I do," Goliath said gravely. He closed his eyes. "I have seen it."

"Goliath?" Hudson came to Goliath's side and placed a gentle, scarred hand on his shoulder. Goliath met his eyes with reluctance, with deep pain.

"I did not want to believe it at first," he said, not looking away from Hudson, whose hand moved to barely touch the edges of Goliath's hair. "That this was real."

"What are you talking about?" Brooklyn snapped. Impatience fed his anger. Broadway reached out for him, carefully taking his hand and covering it with both of his own.

Broadway's hands felt strangely warm, too. Their eyes met, briefly, both asking a question without realizing it, and neither having an answer.

Goliath sighed. He covered Hudson's hand with one of his and held it for a moment before stepping away. Arms crossed, Goliath looked around the interior of the clocktower, almost studying it, as if he were trying to memorize every brick in the wall. "On my journey, I had an … encounter," Goliath pointedly chose the word, though it seemed like this might be an understatement. "With the fae we know as Puck."

For several seconds, Brooklyn had no idea who that was. His life had been so absorbed with tragedy in the present lately that anything in the past simply didn't warrant his attention. Brooklyn and Broadway both came to recognition as one and made similar expressions of confusion. Brooklyn dusted off the old memory and was met with the bright, delighted face of a wiry, white haired sprite.

"That tiny floating dork?"

Broadway nearly laughed, but not quite. The faint smile at the corner of his mouth was enough to give Brooklyn a flicker of satisfaction.

Goliath paused at the word - he almost asked, then brushed it off. Now wasn't the time to delve into the lingo of the twentieth century. Instead, he nodded, eyes clouding over. "He created an elaborate illusion … a game of sorts, in order to retrieve the Phoenix Gate."

"What for?" Broadway asked.

"To avoid the Gathering of his kind. At least, this is what I gathered. The illusion, the game, was … disturbing." Goliath swallowed the word. His expression spoke of far more than his description. "But I dismissed it as nothing but smoke and mirrors. Even when Puck taunted that it was not a dream - rather, that it was a prophecy - I did not believe him. Now, however, I fear that there might have been more truth to his little trick than I originally thought."

"What was it?" Brooklyn pressed. "What was the game?"

Goliath hesitated to meet Brooklyn's stare and when he did, it carried an impossible weight, a hundred horrors whose only audience was Goliath. "It was a future. A false future, forty years from when Avalon took me on my Odyssey." He shook his head and looked away again. "It … was supposed to be a projection of what would have happened had I never returned to Manhattan. Everything was different. Horrible. You …" He met each of their eyes. "You were not the same people who stand before me now."

Brooklyn remembered the anger and the hatred that had started to eclipse his immense love of his leader; it throbbed like the dull ache of a wound beginning to heal. What kind of person would he have turned into if Goliath's return had not started to repair the damage? If it had been left to rot inside of him?

Judging by the look in Goliath's eyes - which Brooklyn could only describe as fright - he was not sure he wanted to know.

"I would have done my best to forget that nightmare, but there are some parallels here in the present that worry me."

Broadway's hand tightened around Brooklyn's and a flood of sudden urgency overcame them both; Brooklyn looked down the hallway with alarm where Lexington had disappeared. The dread that coiled in his gut had no real origin and he glanced at Broadway as if the answer to the unexplained emotion could be found there, but he could tell that Broadway was just barely reining himself in, too, and, like him, was just as perplexed.

"I do not want to go into the details," Goliath continued, unaware. Two fingers rubbed at his temples. "But it makes me wonder if perhaps we are dealing with -"

Brooklyn and Broadway's unified gasp interrupted Goliath. Each put a hand over their heart as a sharp pain dragged across the skin. Brooklyn was certain he would find blood, could almost feel the wetness on his hand, but when he pulled back it was clean.

The two rookery brothers looked at each other for a single beat.

"What's wrong?" Hudson asked, but they were already gone, sprinting down the hallway. The elder gargoyles soon followed, voicing their confusion, but Brooklyn did not pause to answer.

Pain. Determination. These did not belong to Brooklyn, but the fear was both his and Lexington's.

Broadway reached the door first. He wrapped the handle in his hand and pulled with a rehearsed motion and was met with the same heart-skipping shock as missing an extra step at the bottom of the stairs; the door did not open. Broadway tried again but was once more met with resistance. Barely pausing, Broadway angled his shoulder into the door and heaved into it with nothing but a dull thud.

Panic. Fear. Determination. Determination. Determination.

Broadway whipped his head back to look through the glass window of the door. He became very still.

Brooklyn did not look but he saw. Broadway's eyes acted like a portal, and through them Brooklyn watched Lexington, back facing the door, struggle to stand with his hip against the counter as blood pooled drop by drop at his feet.

Nausea. Fear. These belonged to all of them.

Determination, determination. Pain.

Focus.

"Oh my god." Broadway shook the door again, this time violently. "Lexington! Lexington!"

"Move." Goliath pushed Brooklyn aside. He glanced through the small window and acted as if the sight did not deeply disturb him. He focused instead on ramming his shoulder into the door. It groaned with the force but ultimately did not budge.

"What's going on?" Hudson asked, but neither Broadway nor Brooklyn could form an answer.

The sound of glass shattering made everyone jump in surprise. Goliath's arm extended into the room through the window and he used the tough skin of his elbow and forearm to knock the remaining glass out of the frame. The shards exploded into a shimmering rain at their feet.

Goliath's ducked his head inside for a brief second, then pulled out again. He looked at Hudson first, face hardened into something Brooklyn couldn't read. "It is welded shut," he said, very quietly, as if they might be able to spook that truth away if it didn't know they were aware of it.

Hudson's brow bunched at the top of his nose. "How in god's name could -"

"He has a weapon in there. One of Xanatos' laser cannons." Goliath tightened his grip on the frame of the window. "He wanted to see how it worked," he added, as if they didn't already know this, and he wasn't so much defending himself for allowing Lexington to take it home as he was defending Lexington for using it against them like this.

Brooklyn closed his eyes, saw small little Lexington cradling a laser cannon nearly as big as himself all the way to the clocktower, excited to pull it apart, to find out how it worked, to learn this new world's technology. Bright, small, beautiful Lexington.

That memory was tainted now, warped by this one.

Goliath grunted with effort as he started to pull back the frame of the window. The clocktower was decades, perhaps a century old, and the door was made of thick steel. It groaned under Goliath's massive hands and began to peel backwards, but very slowly.

Too slowly.

Inside the room, Lexington whimpered. Brooklyn did not want to look but closing his eyes only gave him two different angles, so he stared through the opening. Lexington remained with his back to the door and the muscles under his wings flexed with exertion, taut as wires. Lexington gasped loudly and planted one bloodied hand on the counter - Brooklyn had a rush of dizziness, a sudden weakness in his knees - and he watched Lexington extend the other arm out and away so he could catch his breath. In his trembling grip was a serrated knife from the kitchen. The blade caught on the lights in the ceiling and flashed red.

"Lex! Lex, stop!" Brooklyn forced Goliath out of the way like he was going to somehow fit through the window. He managed to shove his head and one arm into the opening and reached desperately, as if by sheer will, he could make Lexington come to him. "Lexington!"

"Let me do this." Lexington's voice was quiet. It would have sounded almost calm if the tremors that wracked his body didn't make the words shake. "I built a new heart, see?" He motioned with the empty hand to a crudely fashioned box-like contraption, with tiny hoses and wires springing out of it, and it was large - too large to fit in even Goliath's chest cavity, let alone Lexington's, if it worked at all.

"It doesn't," Broadway said into Brooklyn's ear, voice wet. "We were just messing around with a model, it's not supposed to be anything near a finished product -"

"It'll work." Lexington twisted over his shoulder. He met Brooklyn's eyes and smiled, too wide, too manic. "And then I won't belong to him anymore."

"Lexington, listen to me. You don't belong to him." Brooklyn shouted over the sound of Golitah puncturing the metal near the hinges of the door with his claws. "You belong to you. To our clan. We will fix this! Goliath will see him today and together we will all make sure you're safe again -!"

"He's listening!" Lexington cried, and turned around - and Brooklyn's stomach became a tight knot at the sight.

Lexington had carved through the thickened skin of the scar that ran the length of his sternum. Beneath the shredded flesh, Brooklyn could see glimpses of white bone. His chest was drenched in a sheet of blood, soaked into his tunic, and cascaded down his legs like a waterfall.

"Oh my god." Brooklyn pulled out of the window. He looked at Broadway and could see the reflection of what he had just witnessed in his eyes. Brooklyn began breathing heavily. "He's going to kill himself. He's going to bleed to death in there."

"The hinges are welded from the other side." Goliath refused to look at Lexington, at Brooklyn, at any of them. "Step back."

The gargoyles obeyed. There was little space between the door to the tinkering room and the other side of the hallway which meant Goliath had no running start. He stepped back as far as he could before ramming his shoulder into the door. It dented but only slightly. Goliath roared and did it again.

Brooklyn felt lightheaded and he did not know if it was from his own whirling panic or Lexington's blood loss. Probably both. Broadway caught him when he started to slide down the wall. They both gave an abrupt flinch of pain - inside, Lexington started digging into his chest again.

What if they couldn't get the door down in time? Where would they take Lexington if he needed medical attention to be saved? What if he died in there?

Brooklyn screwed his eyes shut. Xanatos wouldn't let Lexington do this, would he? He would lose his leverage and his power over them. What was he waiting for? Why wasn't he pushing the button to make him stop? Was Xanatos so far gone that he would sacrifice Lexington for the sake of enjoyment?

Or was this Xanatos' way of making Brooklyn get on his knees and beg him to save Lexington's life again, by any means necessary?

Brooklyn made a frustrated, disgusted sound, and slammed his fist into the wall behind him before moving between Goliath and the door.

Goliath had to open his wings to keep himself from colliding into Brooklyn. "What are you doing?!"

"Xanatos!" Brooklyn forced his head and arm into the window again.

The gargoyles, including Lexington, paused. Lexington glanced up from his chest, the knife gripped in both hands and pressed hard against his breastbone.

"Xanatos, I know you're listening. Please, stop this before he hurts himself even more."

"What are you doing?" Lexington's face warped with anger. "Don't talk to him!"

"I'm trying to save you, Lex!" Brooklyn cried.

"I'm saving us. I'm saving all of us from him." Lexington pulled the knife away and shifted it, pressing the tip in a soft dip between two of his ribs. "I won't let him control us anymore, one way or another, and you guys can go. Find another home. Away from him."

Lexington sounded resigned, as if he were a ghost, observing his body from the other side. Like he was saying goodbye.

Like he was already gone.

"Xanatos! Xanatos, please!" Brooklyn screamed, banging his fist hard on the other side of the door. "Make him stop! Shock him!" He sobbed, eyes slamming shut. "Push the button!"

The cogs of the clock above them seemed to slow. The very earth itself dragged in time for just a moment.

Everything was quiet. Everything stopped.

And when it sprang forward again, it erupted with sound; Lexington's body crumpling onto the floor, the knife clattering away, and, above all else, Lexington's tortured screams.

It was more than Brooklyn could bear. He pulled back, into Broadway's arms, who held him up despite feeling too weak to stand himself. Broadway's hands flattened over Brooklyn's ears to muffle the now too familiar sound of Lexington writhing in unbelievable pain, and Broadway's lips pressed to Brooklyn's closed eyes, mouthing something Brooklyn interpreted through the shape of the words on his skin and not so much the sound of his voice.

Thank you, Broadway mouthed. You saved him.

Brooklyn sagged against Broadway's chest.

At what cost?

* * *

It took Goliath several more attempts to gain access into the room; eventually he used his claws to peel back the frame of the window far enough that Brooklyn, the smallest of the gargoyles standing, could squeeze in. He scooped Lexington's limp, bloodied body into his arms and wept against his face ("I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.") before carefully passing him through the jagged opening to Goliath.

They brought him back into the main room. The recliner's footrest had broken when Brooklyn tossed it across the room but it still leaned back and Lex was small enough to fit comfortably enough. Bronx sat on the floor beside the chair with his head on the armrest, watching Lexington with wide, sad eyes, whining every time Lexington tried to open his eyes.

Elisa had stocked them up on medical supplies long ago that had remained largely untouched for the duration of their time in Manhattan - while they often wore the evidence of their battles in some shape or form, the injuries were usually minor and after a day of stone sleep little was left of whatever they endured the night before; this proved to work in their favor, because they used more bandages in that one night on one gargoyle than any of them ever had in their lifetime. Lexington had lost a lot of blood and it continued to weep through the first layer of dressing but did eventually start to clot. He was hurt and weak and mostly unconscious, fading in and out and moaning, but he was not in any immediate danger. Broadway wanted to get Elisa to check on him, to bring some pain medication until the night passed, and he was arguing with Goliath about whether or not they should bother her so soon after coming home when Brooklyn slipped out of the clocktower.

The frigid February air settled deep into Brooklyn's bones as he leaned into the corner of the balcony, each hand on the separate banisters and his head bowed over the point where the two joined. A hundred stories down, humans were heading home from work, eating dinner, getting ready for bed. One human in particular was probably doing their best to swallow what they had seen - two winged creatures falling out of the sky, one catching the other. He wondered if the human had been able to register his panic or fear or pain in that brief moment where their paths crossed. He wondered if they would tell people, their friends or family, or if they would keep it locked away as a precious secret, convinced no one would believe them if they told.

He wondered if their paths would ever cross again, and what they would ask, and what he would say.

Gargoyles did not believe in fate - at least, Brooklyn didn't. Couldn't. Refused to believe for a second that he and his clan had been destined to suffer this way from the very beginning. They were good. They had already been through enough, had already endured the slaughter of their entire clan, a thousand year spell, being thrust into an unfamiliar time. Was that not enough torment for a lifetime?

He looked up into the sky but the moon was gone, sheathed by the turn of the earth. He could not ask her why.

Perhaps he would not like the answer.

"I can tell that there is going to be a difference in how we cope as leaders."

Goliath came to stand at his side. Brooklyn did not face him. He lifted his heavy head to look out over the endless lights of Manhattan.

"I look for guidance in the written word. You turn, instead, to the stars." Goliath smiled fondly. "Perhaps it is because you are moon-bonded."

"You're moon-bonded, too," Brooklyn observed, just above a whisper.

"I am. But my faith in the sky has been shaken." Goliath searched the sky. "I hope yours never is."

Brooklyn shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not leader anymore and I never want to be again."

"Why would you say that?" Goliath attempted to place a comforting hand on Brooklyn's shoulder, but the younger gargoyle tore away from him, moving several paces away from the banister. "You made a fine leader. And with the proper training you will become an even better one, when the time comes."

Brooklyn made a grunt of frustration. His arm arced toward the clocktower, displaying it for Goliath as if it was obvious how wrong he was just by looking at it. "Did you not see what I did in there?"

"I saw precisely what you did. You made a decision - a very hard decision, something that none of us had even thought of."

"Because it was horrible, Goliath! Because it was a horrible choice!"

"No," Goliath corrected, eyes heavy. "You were the only one of us thinking clearly enough to consider an option that would ultimately save Lexington, even if it did cause him pain. Sometimes, Brooklyn," Goliath sighed, crossed his arms and looked away. "The toughest choices are the right ones."

Brooklyn threw his hands up. "So you're saying that hurting Lexington more was the right move, then? That Broadway or Hudson would have done that?"

"I do not know if Broadway or Hudson would have made the same choice, but that is exactly the point, Brooklyn. You were able to go through with it, as awful as it was, because you knew that Lexington was not in his right mind to stop. Imagine what would have happened had you not done what you did."

Brooklyn shook his head violently - he had already been forced to consider that possibility too many times. He wanted to undo all of this, rewind and make the right choices, fix everything that had gone wrong -

The whirlwind of his thoughts paused for a moment. He imagined a light bulb, like in those cartoons, lighting above his head.

"The Phoenix Gate." Brooklyn brightened - for the first time in weeks, he felt light enough to float. "The Phoenix Gate! That's the answer. You can undo all of this, we can start over and do it right! We can stop you from leaving, stop Lexington from getting shot - we can stop Xanatos before he even starts!" Brooklyn rushed up to Goliath and held him by the arms. "We can change everything, Goliath, and make it all right again."

Goliath's expression had fallen, darkened to something beyond mere suspicion. He stared back at Brooklyn like he wasn't even sure he was real. "You - the other Brooklyn - made the same request in the false future Puck created," he said, slowly shifting out of Brooklyn's grasp. "And I will tell you the same thing I told him: time cannot be tampered with."

"Why?" Brooklyn motioned to the clocktower again. "Lexington is falling apart, Goliath. And the rest of us aren't much better. Xanatos is losing his mind! We could save everyone, even him."

Goliath shook his head. "You do not understand the severity of what you are asking."

"I understand that Lexington tried to kill himself today. That he's almost died more than once. I understand that Broadway barely feels anything anymore, that Hudson has probably shaved off ten years of his life worrying about you while you were gone." Brooklyn seethed, his anger as red as his skin. "I understand that you have the power to fix all of it and you refuse to do it! That's what I understand!"

Goliath's nostrils flared. He met Brooklyn's eyes gravely. "I do not have it."

Brooklyn hesitated. "What?"

"The Phoenix Gate." Goliath crossed his arms tightly. "It is gone."

"Gone where?" Brooklyn walked to the banister with every intention of leaping right off of it. "I'll go get it, just tell me where it is."

Goliath caught him by the arm, his grip just tight enough to stop him, not hurt him. "It is gone. Beyond your reach. Any of ours. I opened up a portal and threw it inside. Its power was too great."

For several heartbeats Brooklyn did not move, watching a single car crawl down the highway, its brake lights fading like his one and final hope. Tearing his arm out of Goliath's hold, he slammed his fists into the banister. The stone chipped away.

Goliath would never lie to him. That almost hurt the most. If he could at least entertain that idea, maybe he could have focused on finding the Phoenix Gate instead of Lexington, Xanatos, Broadway, all of them. Anything was better than the mess they always seemed to be in.

Instead, he swallowed his hope, buried it, and accepted that the Phoenix Gate and rewriting history was not the answer. The answer rested somewhere in the future.

"The false future." Brooklyn finally spoke after several minutes of tense silence. "How do you know it wasn't a prophecy, like Puck said?"

"Because I am home. He only showed what would have happened had I not returned for forty years."

"You said there were parallels." Brooklyn side-eyed him. "What were they?"

Goliath shook his head, waving a hand to dismiss it. "I do not wish to linger -"

"I need to know. Because if it was a prophecy, like he said, then we need to know what to watch out for. If we know what might be, maybe we can stop it from happening."

Goliath sighed. He ran a hand down his face and looked out across the city in silence, and for a moment Brooklyn thought he was going to have to beg him to answer when he eventually spoke again. "Demona making advances on you is one. In the false future, you and her were mates."

Brooklyn's stomach dropped. "That would never, not in a hundred years -"

"I know. Like I said, I do not believe that these events necessarily would have happened, even if I had not returned. Puck did not take into account that you are moon-bonded. I could easily ignore that as part of the game. But the more alarming parallel is Lexington, and his mechanical heart."

Brooklyn registered Goliath's growing unease and immediately tensed. "What about him?"

"He was … you were all different, all changed, but he was … more machine than gargoyle, by the time I arrived." Goliath's breath hitched and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Even his voice sounded robotic. I do not know how many injuries he must have sustained in order to replace nearly every body part with metal, but it was enough that his mind was corrupted, as well."

"Corrupted?" Brooklyn suddenly felt very ill.

Goliath abruptly shook his head. "It is irrelevant. Even if it was a prophecy, I am home now. Those things cannot continue to happen now that I am here, if they were in motion at all. I will not let any of you get hurt again, I will not let any of you die."

"Die?" Brooklyn gaped at him, heart pounding. "We died?"

Paling, Golaith looked away. "No-"

"Who died? All of us?" Brooklyn, dizzy, looked up at the sky for a sense of steadiness, but found none. "Who first?" He brought his gaze back to Goliath, whose eyes were screwed tightly shut. "Who died first, Goliath?"

"Why would you even ask something like that -"

"Because if this isn't a false future, if it is a prophecy, then we need to know who to protect the most. Goliath, please." Brooklyn wrapped a hand around his wrist. "Who was it?" A single, painful heartbeat. "Was it me?"

Goliath shook his head. Despite himself, Brooklyn was relieved. His leader opened his eyes, looked at Brooklyn's hand, and then slowly closed one of his own over it. His eyes shone wet with tears as they looked up at the clockface.

"When I arrived in that wretched place, that horrible time," Goliath said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Hudson was already gone."

Brooklyn knew that no matter what name he heard, it would knock the wind out of him, but that did not prepare him for how weak his knees became, how quickly he fell to the balcony floor. Goliath only just barely caught him, pulling him back to his feet and holding him firmly by the shoulders.

"Listen to me. You and I are going to talk to Xanatos tonight. Maybe we can stop this, all of this, right now."

Brooklyn nodded without thought, completely numb.

"We can fix this."

"Do you believe that?"

Goliath paused before he nodded, only a moment, but it was enough to make Brooklyn's heart skip a beat.

* * *

"I want to come with you."

Brooklyn cradled Broadway's face in both of his hands. "I know, baby. But Lexington needs you more."

To their left, Hudson and Goliath had a quiet but intense argument about the same subject; Hudson, demanding to come with them, whispering about how the last time he let his clan out of his sight one of them got shot - Goliath silenced him with a gentle embrace. He might have lingered a moment longer than usual.

"Keep an eye on Hudson," Brooklyn said, aware that it was cryptic, but unable to help himself.

Confusion briefly flickered across Broadway's face. He studied Brooklyn, chewing his lip. "I can tell when you're hiding something from me, you know."

Brooklyn almost laughed. Of course he could. He arched up on his toes and kissed Broadway on the mouth. "I know. And I promise to explain when I get back."

He looked at his hands braced against the solid muscle of Broadway's chest and frowned. If he focused, he thought he could feel Broadway's heart beating beneath it. Perhaps it was his own. Perhaps it was both.

He realized with a start that Lexinton's had been out of sync for months. He wondered if he would be faring much better if it had been him with the mechanical heart, instead.

"Do you think Lexington will forgive me for what I did?" Brooklyn asked, very quiet.

"He might not see it right now, but there is nothing to forgive, Brooklyn. I think he will be more upset with me, anyway."

Brooklyn frowned. "Why?"

"Because I finally broke down the door and destroyed the model of his substitute heart."

Brooklyn blinked in surprise. "Broadway-"

"I had to. He'd only try to do it again. And I'm partly responsible that it exists in the first place. I helped him put it together." He sighed, shaking his head. "I was just trying to take his mind off things and look where it ended up. Nothing I ever do is right, he always ends up getting hurt in the end."

"Broadway, listen." Brooklyn steered the taller gargoyle's face back to his again. "This is not your fault. I think there's something bigger at play, here. I think we're … pawns in some fucked up game."

"You think?"

"Yes. And I'm going to prove it. And then I'm going to set things right. For you and Lex and all of us, okay?"

Broadway smiled faintly. "I love you most when you're determined. You light up."

Brooklyn beamed. He ran his fingers down the spiked ridges that lined the center of Broadway's head. "Ask Hudson about being moon bonded."

"What?"

"Moon bonded. And tell Lex, when he wakes up, that -"

"That you love him?" Broadway nodded. "I will."

Together, Brooklyn and Goliath jumped into the sky. Goliath kept his eye in the direction of Xanatos' castle. Brooklyn might as well have been flying backward with how often he was watching the clocktower fade in the distance over his shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: brief choking.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

The bridge that had gifted Brooklyn with his name haunted him in the distance to his right, colossal and anchored across the East River. He thought of how Goliath was a walking contradiction to his own namesake, how the humans saw only his sheer size and labeled it as something monstrous. Would the humans have picked something equally as grotesque, given the chance, for Brooklyn?

What name would Goliath have chosen for himself?

Brooklyn wanted to ask but he kept his mouth wired so tightly shut that his temples ached. They glided side by side in silence, letting the wind gradually lift them through a mist of clouds, until there was only an ocean of sky and the Wyvern castle in their sights. For the upteenth time, Brooklyn turned over his shoulder and used one hand to pull white hair away from his eyes so he could see the yellow orb of the clockface tower, but it was gone.

"They will be fine," Goliath said warmly, offering as much of a reassuring smile as he could. "We will be back before we know it."

Brooklyn frowned and faced forward again. A hundred questions burned on the back of his tongue like smoke in a closed chimney. The future, the prophecy - it sat square on his shoulders, heavy and unknown. He wasn't sure if knowing the answers to his questions would be better or worse than what his imagination had come up with. In the time it took for them to leave the clocktower up until then, Brooklyn had already seen his clan die a hundred times in a hundred different ways.

"Goliath," Brooklyn began, unable to keep the fire from scorching his throat, but Goliath raised a hand to silence him.

"I do not wish to talk about it any further. I have already put too many dark things in your mind."

"Trust me, my mess of a brain has already conjured up some pretty nasty stuff. If you don't tell me, then all I have are those images."

Goliath sighed. He shook his head. "The details are not important. I am home now. Even if the prophecy had started to unfold, my being here stops it."

"How are you so sure?"

Goliath's silence proved that he wasn't.

The castle absorbed the sky. They descended onto a turret rather than the main courtyard in front of the doors. They did so wordlessly but with reason. It felt like the calm before the storm and they both knew that they needed a moment to center themselves before going forward, before facing whatever Xanatos had waiting for them inside the walls of the castle Brooklyn had once called home.

Brooklyn watched Goliath spread his palms across the stone and lean his weight against it, head hung heavy. Goliath took a deep breath until his chest was wide and full, wings slightly open, and when he exhaled it was like a gust of weary wind, and Brooklyn half expected him to break apart with it, to decay before his eyes and turn to dust. But Goliath took another breath and Brooklyn did too, as much as it hurt.

Brooklyn surveyed the empty platforms and remembered each gargoyle that had claimed them. Humans had ghosts in their lore, rageful spirits trapped in the places they had died, and if ever there existed a place where such spirits would linger it would be at Wyvern castle, where the silent, unjust massacre of his people had taken place. Brooklyn's throat tightened and he curled a hand over an edge of stone. He tried to find relief in the fact that he did not sense any residual anger or pain, that his brothers and sisters and friends did not leave any part of themselves behind.

Instead of relief, Brooklyn only rediscovered his own anger, his own pain, and once again Brooklyn was forced to push it aside. There never seemed to be an appropriate moment to grieve the loss of his people and his time. He hoped that one day, when they could all breathe again, they would be able to talk about it, remember them, mourn them. They had never been given the chance.

Perhaps gargoyles did leave ghosts - inside the survivors, rather than the place.

Goliath put a hand on his shoulder. Still, they did not speak, but they nodded in unison as if they had, as if they had come to an agreement: they would process this, but not now. Now called for all of their attention on the living and not on long lost friends. Not yet.

With Goliath in the lead, they filed the spiral stairs until they reached the courtyard. Waiting with a tapping foot near the double doors was Owen, who stormed toward them on sight. Brooklyn noticed immediately how disheveled the man was, how strained his eyes were behind glasses that fell too far down his nose, blonde pieces of hair springing free from its usual mold. He even walked in an animated, jittery way that was very opposite of his normal demeanor, as if someone was pressing a fast forward button on Owen's life.

"You two have kept him waiting for far too long." Owen came to an abrupt stop but leaned forward on his toes like his body ached to stay in motion. His eyes, two blazing pits of blue, managed to strike Brooklyn's heart with enough fear to make him back pedal. "Now he is angry and very, very unstable -"

"Owen." Goliath stepped back as well, but it wasn't because Owen frightened him - it was to get a good look at him for the first time in nearly half a year. Goliath's face warped with concern, hands reaching out on instinct to try and comfort the clearly frazzled man before him, but Owen jerked out of reach. "What has happened to you?"

Owen's eyes narrowed to angry slits as he stared hard at Goliath, shoulders rising like his entire being was filling with steam. "You happened to me. You - you are responsible for this."

"Me?" Goliath looked to Brooklyn, but his second could offer no clues. "What do you mean?" Even though Goliath was rightly confused, he also sounded apologetic, as if he were already on the verge of admitting his unknown faults and taking responsibility for all of it, everything, if that meant it could be settled right now.

Owen's mouth tightened with so much force, Brooklyn could hear the pressure of his teeth grinding together. "If you had not run off, none of this would have happened. If you had just given me -" Owen's mouth snapped shut with a click. He straightened his back like it took an enormous effort to do so, then abruptly spun on his heel. "Follow me. He has been waiting long enough."

The air Owen left behind him felt unnaturally charged and Goliath and Brooklyn both visibly shivered as they moved to follow. Brooklyn inclined his head and spoke very softly. "Whatever is happening to Xanatos is rubbing off on him. He wasn't like this yesterday. I mean, not this bad."

Goliath's shoulders hung heavily. "If he is like this, I can only imagine what condition Xanatos must be in."

Brooklyn reached and touched the tip of his fingers to Goliath's wrist. Goliath slipped his hand around his second's and gave a short squeeze. "He's in rough shape," Brooklyn said, and he very nearly felt sorry for Xanatos, for whatever he was going through. But after everything Xanatos done, he could not bring himself quite to that point. A small part of him even found some kind of sick joy in whatever suffering Xanatos was experiencing. He could guarantee without a second thought that it did not come close to what he and his clan had suffered.

"What was he talking about?" Brooklyn asked, nodding toward Owen a few paces ahead. "Given him what?"

Pulling his hand free, Goliath sighed, completely baffled. "I have no idea."

The large doors opened with a yawn. The main room was the same as it had been the day before, including the Lexington-shaped bloodstain on the floor - which Goliath eyed painfully - except this time, there was an acrid smell of smoke. It was so strong that Brooklyn covered his nose and Goliath just barely kept himself from doing the same.

Brooklyn didn't have to ask why it smelled like a bonfire; as they moved farther into the room, Owen lead them right around a large ring in the middle of the floor. It was twice Brooklyn's height and a perfect circle, blackened through the carpet until it peeled away to reveal the ashen stone beneath.

"He tried to summon something," Owen said out of the corner of his mouth, through his teeth, and Brooklyn could only describe it as if Owen was … offended, like he took it very personally that Xanatos would try to seek the help of something otherworldly.

Frankly, Brooklyn wasn't surprised - the man had brought gargoyles back to life on a hunch, after all - but was relieved all the same that it did not seem he had been successful. Xanatos was dangerous enough on his own.

"Why?" Goliath asked, edging away from the still smoldering carpet.

"Because -" Owen's mouth snapped shut again. His face burned red along his cheeks, his forehead, like the flames from whatever Xanatos had burned were still going, licking along his skin, scalding him. "Because there is something wrong with him," Owen said, each word forced, like it caused him great pain to speak.

"Tell us." Goliath once again reached for Owen, to take him by the shoulders, but as before, Owen moved out of his grasp. "Tell us what is wrong, what has happened to him. We might be able to help."

"You have never helped!" Owen shouted, and Brooklyn swore for half a second that he could see Owen's hair rising from his head like fire on a wick. "Ever since you came here you have complicated everything for us."

Goliath's face set sternly. "Need I remind you that he is the one who brought us here?"

"And how desperately I wish I could turn back time to correct that mistake. But you just would not allow that, would you, Goliath? You had to throw it away." Owen sneered, having raised to the tips of his toes, and for some reason Brooklyn thought he might start to hover in the air, levitating just on the force of his anger.

"What are you talking about?" Brooklyn interrupted, and they both glanced at him like they had forgotten he was there. "Throw what away? You're making about as much sense as Xanatos."

Owen deflated back to the flats of his feet. His hands busied themselves with smoothing out the front of his shirt, but it only made him seem more manic.

"Look, Owen, I don't know what's going on with Xanatos, but it's obviously having some effect on you."

Owen snorted. "You have no idea," he mumbled.

Brooklyn stepped forward, not allowing Owen a second to pull away, and grabbed the human by the wrist. Something in Owen's skin shocked Brooklyn, enough to make him blink in surprise, but not to pull away. "I don't know what your problem is with Goliath - with us. We didn't ask to be brought here by your weird boyfriend, that was all his doing. And he's done nothing but fuck with us since day one. But you know that he's gone too far this time. Almost killing Lex? More than once? Torturing him over and over again?" Brooklyn's grip tightened on Owen's wrist - not to hurt him, but to emphasize. "You know this has got to stop. We have to end this."

Owen's eyes burned. He looked down to where their hands met and then back to Brooklyn's face. It had suddenly become very quiet, very still, and Brooklyn realized that Owen was even holding his breath.

"This is real, Owen. This is my clan that's hurting," Brooklyn said, and watched as Owen's eyes slid down and away, to stare hard at the floor. "We've all been so messed up because of all of this. If whatever Xanatos is doing goes on much longer, I don't think we'll be able to come back from it. Any of us, including Xanatos."

Owen finally caught his breath and turned to look at Goliath. His expression softened to something thoughtful, something careful, and Brooklyn slowly withdrew his hand.

"It must be even more horrible for you, Goliath," Owen said, his voice like ice dropped down Brooklyn's spine. "Going through all of this for a second time."

Goliath's face paled. He opened his mouth to speak, to question, but he did not get the chance.

"Goliath!"

Even Owen jumped at the outburst. They turned to face Xanatos standing at the foot of a flight of stairs to their right, and Brooklyn could not believe that just a day had passed since he had seen him last. The man's hair was loose again, clothes wrinkled and torn and dusted with what could only be blood. His beaming smile was even more unnerving than it was the day before, stretched so wide it looked painful and impossible, and he seemed to almost vibrate in place at the sight of Goliath. The pink tip of his tongue ran along the pearls of his teeth before slipping back into his mouth with a wet sound.

"I've missed you," Xanatos says, his voice coming from low in his throat, almost a growl. "Wherever did you go?"

Brooklyn held himself still as goosebumps crawled along his flesh like a thousand tiny spiders. Humans should not be as frightening as Xanatos was just then. Their soft skin, brittle bones, and earth bound lives are all so very fragile in comparison to a gargoyle. Xanatos himself had never frightened Brooklyn - what Xanatos was capable of, what Xanatos had at his disposal, his money and power and fame - these things scared him. Strip away his privilege and Xanatos was just another human, and even he had to know that one-on-one with a gargoyle, he would lose.

For the first time, however, Brooklyn was second guessing that thought. Unhinged, Xanatos was an entirely different entity. Whatever had happened to him - whatever was happening to him, it was supernatural. Xanatos didn't even smell human anymore.

"Xanatos," Goliath said, his voice hollow with disbelief at the sight of him.

"You kept me waiting," Xanatos snapped, but his eyes had shifted to Owen, and there they narrowed. "Must you disappoint me constantly, Owen?" Xanatos pulled on the man's name like it was a taunt, an insult in itself.

Owen bristled. His hands popped as they tightened into fists at his sides.

"Owen won't let me have any fun anymore," Xanatos continued, turning back to Goliath. He swayed on his feet like he might be drunk, but his eyes were too sharp, his words very clear. "And he's jealous because I tried to get the help of something more powerful than him."

"Mr. Xanatos." Owen spoke like a warning, and his eyes - Brooklyn shook his head - no. Of course they were not glowing.

Goliath cleared his throat and steered Xanatos' attention back to himself. "You called. I am here. We need to talk."

"Ah. Talk. You're gone for months, of course you want to talk. But I simply do not have the time, Goliath. We're all very, very stretched thin on time." Xanatos smirked over Goliath's shoulder at Owen. "Aren't we?"

"Listen to me." Goliath took a step forward to block the rest of the room from Xanatos' sight, and his voice softened, like he was talking to a disobedient child. "What you have done to my clan, to Lexington in particular, is unacceptable. You know I cannot allow your torture to continue."

"Torture?" Xanatos barked with laughter. "Didn't Brooklyn explain all of this already? I did what I had to do to get my gargoyles - yes, my gargoyles - back into my pocket. I gave you too much freedom. I should have kept you on a leash. And besides," Xanatos' grin curled devilishly on the corner of his mouth. "He begged for my help. It was quite pretty. You should have seen him on his knees, just over there -" Gesturing with his chin to the blood stain, Xanatos laughed again. "How could I have said no?"

Brooklyn fumed. He had had enough of this, of Xanatos' mindless babbling, of wasting time trying to reason with a crazy man. There were more important things to take care of, an entire clan back home that needed him, a hurt Lexington that he needed to talk to. None of this mattered. Xanatos could not be saved, and as far as Brooklyn was concerned, that was all for the better.

"This is pointless. Let's get out of here," Brooklyn said, but Goliath did not acknowledge him. He stepped closer to Xanatos, wings slightly spread, and took a breath that filled his entire chest.

"Why did you demand I come here, Xanatos?" Goliath's voice was just a growl, a steady thrum in his throat.

Xanatos closed the distance between them further, head craned back to keep his eyes on the gargoyle's. "I need your blood, of course. Having a complete set is crucial to my plans."

Golaith's horned brow flickered. "Plans for what? Are you going to try and summon something again?"

Brooklyn's blood iced in his veins, but Xanatos shook his head. Brooklyn was only minutely relieved.

"No." Xanatos raised his right arm and peeled back the torn white fabric of his sleeve; the length of his forearm was bandaged. "I already have one scar and Owen has gone to great lengths to make certain I do not try it again."

Brooklyn's eyes cut sideways to Owen. The man had become like stone, not blinking or breathing, and his eyes never strayed from Xanatos.

What, exactly, was Owen capable of that it could prevent Xanatos from doing whatever he wanted?

"You can have my blood," Goliath grunted. "It matters little to me what you do with it, it is not my main concern. But I will not leave here until I know you cannot harm Lexington anymore."

Xanatos used the hand of his injured arm to pull his hair back. "That is out of the question. Like I said, I need you on a leash-"

Goliath roared. His wings stretched to their full length and his eyes filled with light. "We are not your pets, Xanatos! Destroy whatever device you are using to harm him, or I will make you." Goliath's teeth bared, but Xanatos was not intimidated by the display - in fact, he only seemed more excited, like a an addict getting another hit. He slipped a hand into his pocket and produced the same small, black remote that he had taunted the clan with the day before.

Despite himself, Brooklyn held his breath.

"You mean this?" Xanatos' thumb smoothed over the button in the center of the remote. He chuckled and leaned his weight on one hip, turning the device over his hands. "This is not the only one, you know."

"Then you will destroy all of them." Goliath's eyes had sharpened on the remote as well.

"Hm. Will I?" He gave a sudden tap to the button, and both of the gargoyles gasped and jumped forward. Xanatos was fast - too fast, pulling backward and holding the remote over his head like a bully on a playground with a stolen toy. "Ah, ah. Be careful. It's not as much fun when you cannot see or hear it, but I'm sure the others are having a delightful show." The button clicked again under his thumb.

"Stop!" Brooklyn cried. He started to charge but was abruptly halted by Owen standing in his way. Brooklyn blinked, did not have a second to wonder how he had gotten in front of him so quickly, and reached through Owen's grasp for Xanatos. "Please, stop it!"

"Xanatos, that is enough." Goliath stepped back and spread his hands. He watched Xanatos carefully, the way the man was breathing so fast and heavy it was a wonder he hadn't passed out, how his smile had gone from unnerving to manic.

"Is the green one even worth of all this?" Xanatos laughed, circling the button with the tip of his thumb as he pulled it back down to his chest. "Wouldn't it be easier to let him go?"

"Shut up!" Brooklyn screamed. Owen's arms wrestled around him, holding him firmly in place. "Don't talk about him! Don't even think about him!"

"Brooklyn, please." Goliath met his second's eyes for a moment and waited for Brooklyn to still. Only then did Owen very carefully detach himself from the gargoyle. When Goliath faced Xanatos again, he took another deep breath. His temper was just below its boiling point. "Something has happened to you, Xanatos. You are not the man I knew before I disappeared."

"On the contrary, Goliath. I am the man I was meant to become in another time, another universe. I just don't have the time to become him. I'm very impatient. But now," Xanatos grinned, spreading his arms wide, the remote still clasped tightly in his hand. "Everything is happening at just the right speed, at just the right time."

Goliath shook his head. "You are not making any sense."

"It will all make sense, Goliath. In time. I promise. Now, if you'll follow Owen, he will take a sample from you-"

"Where is your wife?" Goliath pressed, and for the first time Xanatos seemed genuinely caught off guard, his face falling slack. He almost looked confused, like he did not understand the words. "Your wife," Goliath said again, raising his brow. "Fox. Where is she?"

Xanatos swallowed thickly and he stared at the floor in thought, like he would find the answer to Goliath's question there. "She. Left." The corner of his mouth quirked, then died again. "She did not understand. She couldn't. But it's fine. Her and the child did not fit in this timeline, anyway."

"Timeline?" Goliath took a tentative step forward. "What do you mean -"

"Get back!" Xanatos pointed the remote at Goliath and flattened his thumb across the button.

Brooklyn felt it - a shiver of shock passing through him, an echo of the torture that was tearing Lexington to shreds. He roared, and before Owen could catch him, he surged forward, shouldering Goliath out of his way and slamming the point of his elbow into Xanatos' chest. Xanatos' shoes caught and he fell backward with the entire weight of Brooklyn slamming on top of him. Brooklyn heard the breath rush out of his lungs, listened to him struggle to catch it again, but Brooklyn didn't care - one hand curled tightly around Xanatos' throat and the other clenched around Xanatos' bandaged arm. Xanatos's scream was loud even as he struggled to breathe, and his hand spasmed open. The remote clattered to the floor.

"Goliath!" Brooklyn shouted, but his leader was one step ahead of him, swiping the remote from the floor and whipping around to face Owen, prepared to attack, but the other human had not moved an inch. He watched on stiffly but his expression was torn - something between satisfaction and concern.

It didn't matter. Brooklyn glared down at Xanatos again, the hand on his neck tight enough to bruise, to hurt, but not enough to cut off his airway. The human struggled until Brooklyn released his grip on the injured arm. Xanatos' eyes spun wildly in his head, mouth cracked open with breathless laughter.

"You're sick," Brooklyn sneered, lifting Xanatos' head and slamming it back on the ground. "You're out of your fucking mind. We can all see it. Fox saw it and she's the only one who had good enough sense to leave you before you could trap her, too."

Once again, the mention of his wife managed to pierce through whatever veil had fallen over Xanatos. He stilled and met Brooklyn's eyes and Brooklyn tried to remind himself that for the first time in months, he had the upper hand, he had the power, he could hurt Xanatos as much as he had hurt him and his clan, but it wouldn't take hold - it all faded away when Xanatos stared up at him with nothing but pure fury.

Brooklyn, pinning Xanatos to the floor, with no remote, hands around his tiny human neck, was still afraid of him.

In so many ways, so many times, Brooklyn was a failure.

"What are you going to do now?" Xanatos said, very calm. His body was still beneath the gargoyle's. "Are you going to kill me?"

Behind him, Owen inhaled sharply. Brooklyn did not turn around.

"Maybe." Brooklyn's free hand circled around Xanatos' neck as well, applying just a bit more pressure. "I should. You deserve it."

Although Xanatos' hands were relatively free, they remained at his sides, palms against the floor. He did not fight back.

"Brooklyn." Goliath touched the other gargoyle's shoulder, but Brooklyn shrugged him away.

"Do you know what it's like to watch someone you love suffer the way Lexington has suffered? To watch him convulse on the ground with his eyes rolled back and there's nothing you can do because the thing hurting him so much is the only thing keeping him alive?" Brooklyn's thumb pressed hard against the apple of Xanatos' throat until the airway was pinched closed, like it was the button on his remote. Xanatos still did not move, even as his face started to redden. "If I did that to Fox - to Owen, wouldn't you want to kill me, too?"

"Stop," Owen said from behind him. "Now."

"Goliath." Brooklyn looked over his shoulder to find his leader's eyes, but Goliath was turned away, staring hard at the floor. "Give me the word and I'll put an end to this. Right now."

"Stop," Owen repeated, this time more forcefully. He stepped forward, eyes on Xanatos, but Goliath cut him off with an outstretched wing.

"He cannot be reasoned with. He's just going to keep hurting Lexington. He's going to keep using us forever if we don't end this now." Brooklyn faced Xanatos again. He tightened his hands, and Xanatos' eyes started to roll backward. "His life is not precious. His life is not sacred."

Xanatos cracked a smile.

"Remember what you saw today. Lexington falling to his death. Lexington cutting himself open." Brooklyn said, and his voice cracked, and his eyes burned. "This is the only way to save him. To save us. Goliath," Brooklyn turned again. This time, Goliath stared back. "This is the only way."

"Release him now or I will kill Lexington."

Brooklyn and Goliath turned. Owen remained where he stood, his face blank, but in his hand …

"No," Brooklyn breathed.

"He said there were others." Owen raised the remote and held it like a gun, aimed directly at Brooklyn. "Of course I have one."

Brooklyn's eyes flashed. He growled, raised Xanatos' head from the floor again and smacked it back down, and only then did he pull his hands away. Between his legs, Xanatos' chest expanded with a loud sound, and then clenched painfully as he coughed and gasped for air.

Goliath closed a hand around Brooklyn's shoulder and pulled him back to his feet. Owen stayed wide until he was close enough to Xanatos to bend down and put a hand to his chest, the other still holding the remote very tightly. "Mr. Xanatos?"

"I'm alright." Xanatos pushed himself up on the heels of his palms. He smiled dizzily. "You're not such a disappointment after all, Owen."

"I certainly try, sir."

"Why are you helping him?" Brooklyn cried, and Goliath just barely managed to hold him back. "He hurt you! He's hurt all of us. I tried to help you, I wanted to help you, but you're protecting him! Why?!"

Owen's glasses caught the light when he turned to look at him. "The same reason you would kill for yours."

Brooklyn didn't understand. He strained against Goliath's hold until his leader forced him back, a hand cupping the side of his face. "Look at me. Brooklyn. Look at me."

Brooklyn shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, searing with hot tears. Goliath sighed and spared one moment to stroke his second's hair before facing Xanatos and Owen once again.

"I have had enough of this." Goliath turned his left arm over and dragged his foreclaw across his flesh. The skin split, dark blood swelling to the surface, and when he turned it over to face the ground, two fat droplets pelted to the floor. "There is your sample," he growled, taking Brooklyn firmly by the shoulder again. "We are leaving. And when you feel the need to call upon us again, Xanatos, I expect you to do so without harming one of my clan. If you think this will last forever, you are mistaken." Goliath pulled his wings tight against his back. "You have never owned us. You never will."

Xanatos smiled, his hand rubbing at the purple ring around his throat, while Owen gently aided him to his feet. "I really did miss you, Goliath." Xanatos chuckled. "Welcome home."

Goliath took Brooklyn by the elbow and lead him toward the double doors. Brooklyn's heart was loud in his ears, but he still caught Xanatos' whisper to Owen as Goliath shoved the door open.

"I don't remember giving you a remote."

* * *

"You have to tell me what we're dealing with. What to expect. What to watch out for. It has to be happening, Goliath. Your vision, the prophecy -"

"It is not a prophecy -"

"That's bullshit and you know it! Whatever you saw, it's happening. Right now. You coming home hasn't stopped a thing."

Goliath tilted his wings to put more distance between them. Brooklyn glared ahead at the clocktower in the distance.

"You do not want to know what I saw. Those images will haunt me for the rest of my life. I will not subject you to them." He took a deep breath and sighed into the wind. "Hudson is alive and as far as I'm concerned that is proof enough that the false future is no longer a threat to us."

"But Xanatos is. What are we going to do?"

Goliath shook his head. "I do not know."

"Were you going to let me kill him?" Brooklyn glanced at his leader. "If Owen hadn't interrupted?"

"I. I do not know, Brooklyn. Everything was happening very quickly."

"I should have. I should have just done it before Owen stopped me."

"Listen. If it comes to that - if Xanatos must be killed to be stopped, then that is something I will do, not you. And I want to exhaust every other option we have. You were wrong, Brooklyn. His life is sacred and something has happened to him. He is a victim of … something. If he can be saved, we must try."

"He's not innocent, Goliath," Brooklyn countered. "He's never been. Even before all of this happened, he's been nothing but cruel to us. Besides, it's not our job to save him. Let Owen do that, if he's so determined. We need to focus on us. On Lexington."

"Owen." Goliath's face turned thoughtful. "He knows something."

"Fuck Owen."

Goliath shot him a look.

"I'm serious. Fuck both of them. I don't care about them anymore, Goliath. I care about my clan, my people. My mates." Brooklyn angled his body so his feet were facing first, and used his wings to guide him safely onto the clocktower platform. With the stone beneath his feet, he faced his leader head on. "They need us more than Xanatos does. They're the real victims here."

Goliath opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of the clockface door bursting open. Hudson fell out and held onto the handle like it was the only thing keeping him standing. And a good thing, too, because he nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of them.

"I was so worried," he said, reaching out for Goliath, who quickly took him in his arms. "Lex was shocked a couple times, and I thought somethin' might've happened to you two."

"Is he okay?" Brooklyn asked anxiously.

"He's fine now, lad. A little shaken up. And you two are in one piece." Hudson held onto Goliath like he'd disappear if he let his grip loose. "What happened?"

Brooklyn slipped past Hudson into the clocktower, leaving Goliath to fill him in on what had gone down at Xanatos' castle. He didn't care anymore. He wanted Lexington and Broadway more than he ever had in his life. He needed them like the very air in the room.

He felt them in the library before he saw them. Brooklyn paused outside the door, back to the wall, to collect his thoughts, maybe to eavesdrop, but mostly to close his eyes and see if he could determine how they were feeling before he walked in. His eyes closed and he listened to the drum of his heartbeat in his ears.

Broadway was apprehensive, distant. Brooklyn could feel this like something inside of him was being pulled apart. Lexington was tired. The exhaustion made Brooklyn's head hang heavy against his chest.

From both of them, Brooklyn could taste their fear, like blood in the back of his mouth. He tried to swallow it but felt like choking instead.

Apparently, they were as much aware of his presence as he was of their emotions; when Brooklyn finally turned around the door, they were already looking at him. Lexington was wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the edge of one of the library tables (the same one Brooklyn had broken in half the night he was forced down and had put back together some time later). His feet dangled off the edge. Broadway stood at his side, one hand braced against the tabletop, the other resting on Lexington's knee.

Broadway offered a smile that did not touch his eyes. Lexington crossed his arms, tightening the blanket across his chest, and looked at the floor instead.

Brooklyn felt like he was standing on the other end of a rift, a canyon miles wide, like they were but tiny specks in the distance. "Hey," he said, and swore he almost heard the echo of his voice, like it was stretching far to even reach them. Brooklyn pulled the library door closed and tried to remember the last time they had been like this, the three of them, alone in a room together, private.

He couldn't.

"Are you okay?"

Broadway and Brooklyn spoke at the same time - Broadway to Brooklyn, Brooklyn to Lexington. They met each other's eyes and smiled faintly, briefly.

"I'm fine," Brooklyn assured, and he stepped farther into the room. He waited for Lexington to move away from him, to jump off of the table and leave, but even as Brooklyn came close enough to put his own hand on the table, Lexington stayed put. His eyes, however, did not stray from the ground. "I know he hurt you again," Brooklyn whispered.

"What do you care?" Lexington snapped, still not looking away from the floor. "You hurt me the same way just before you left. You're as bad as him."

Brooklyn's stomach dropped. His mouth fell open but every word he had ever known vanished from his mind.

His heart hurt enough for the three of them.

"That was uncalled for."

Broadway's voice was surprisingly stern. Brooklyn blinked through the dampness in his eyes to find his face, but Broadway was staring harshly down at Lexington, who avoided his eyes and shifted uncomfortably on the table.

"You don't mean that and you know you don't. He saved your life." Broadway took his hands back and crossed his arms. "I would have done the same thing if I had thought of it first."

Lexington's hand rubbed back and forth slowly across the bandages on his chest. Every breath caused him pain. Brooklyn could feel it. He watched Lexington's lower lip tremble before he sucked it between his teeth to keep it still.

"Lexington." Brooklyn edged closer. "Please, look at me."

The small gargoyle shook his head. So Brooklyn made him, moving fluidly to stand in front of him and gathering his face in his hands in one motion. Lexington tried only once to pull away but Brooklyn refused to let him go, cradling his face in one hand while the other slipped carefully into the blanket and wound behind Lexington's back, to spread firmly in the middle of his spine.

Lexington melted into his touch, despite himself, eyes squeezed shut.

"Look at me," Brooklyn repeated, his thumb catching a tear from the corner of Lex's eye as it fluttered open to finally obey.

Brooklyn did not speak, not out loud. But their bond did. Broadway joined them, his arms circling around the other gargoyles and bringing them closer, and as their heads came together, so did their hearts - two of flesh and one of metal.

Lexington cried. Brooklyn whispered into his ear that he was sorry but Lex only shook his head. He pulled Brooklyn closer with one arm, the other claiming Broadway. There were not enough limbs. They could not possibly be close enough.

And they could have stayed there, just like that, forever, but there wasn't enough time.

"You two are the most important people in my life and I would do anything to keep you safe." Brooklyn closed his eyes, his cheek against Lex's head, Broadway's lips on his hair. "I know I don't have much to show for it but I'm trying so hard and I will never, ever stop trying for you. Both of you. I'll fight to my very last breath. Remember that promise you both made me? Right in this room?" Brooklyn pulled back, just far enough to look them both in the eye, to put his hand on each of their faces. "You promised you wouldn't go where I couldn't reach you. Don't break that promise. Please. I can't take it. I can't."

Broadway kissed him, full on the mouth. "I love you," he said, and Brooklyn smiled something broken and sad.

"I love you too, baby. And I love you." Brooklyn looked to Lexington, who kissed the soft flesh of his palm. "You can be mad at me all you want, but I'll keep loving you."

Lexington's mouth cracked with a smile. "I can't stay mad at you. We're … moon-bonded, remember?"

Brooklyn beamed, blinked his tears away and pulled Lexington close again. He met Broadway's eyes. "Yeah, we are."

Lexington sniffled against his chest. "That's … that's really gay, guys."

The trio laughed as one. Brooklyn held them close, held them tightly. Xanatos could shake their lives, he could steal Lex's heart, he could try to tear them to pieces with his schemes and little gadgets, but he could not touch their bond.

Xanatos was not as big as the moon.


	12. Chapter 12

Trigger Warnings for this chapter: natural disaster, blood.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

It was almost like peace. Brooklyn was so accustomed to panic and fear and anxiety that he had forgotten what it felt like - its soft and gentle edges, how warm it was. He resisted it, fought tooth and nail, because he had learned the hard way, repeatedly, that getting comfortable just made the inevitable uprooting that much more shattering - but it seeped through his thick skin and settled on his weary heart and he was so tired, he felt so old, and maybe it was naive of him to think that any sort of peace in a time like this would last but that didn't stop him from hoping, from wrapping it around him like a blanket.

For weeks, it was quiet. For weeks, Xanatos did not contact them. Lexington wasn't shocked, not even once. The clocktower was nearly home again, and although they all knew that it would never be the same as it was before - rather, that they would never be the same as they were before - at least there was some sense of normalcy in the developed routine: patrolling as a unit again, having meals together, visits from Elisa and Angela. Hudson even returned to his late evening storytelling sessions that stretched until dawn. The threads that had started to unravel with Goliath's disappearance were becoming strong again, tight, weaving the patches of themselves together like a clan should be into a finely made quilt.

Watching all of them settle back into themselves - gently, precarious as it was - was something Brooklyn relished every evening when he woke. Broadway became more and more himself in the moment every day, and when he started to dissociate, it was easier to pull him back. He started reading again, and with Elisa delivering groceries once more, he was beginning to experiment with different foods in the kitchen. Lexington's focused trained on his outsides rather than his insides; gone were the designs for a replacement heart. Instead he toyed with old radios Elisa had brought him with every intention of creating a communication system for them and the other gargoyle clans Goliath had met on his travels, on a signal that couldn't be traced by humans. Hearing genuine laughter and kissing sincere smiles again was something Brooklyn sincerely believed he would never have the privilege of doing again after Goliath disappeared. Now that it was present tense rather than just memories and daydreams, Brooklyn felt himself torn between wanting to savor every moment as deeply as he could and fighting to distance himself from it all before it was ripped out from under him.

Angela's visits were a source of great joy for all of them. She looked forward to coming there to stay, to calling it her home, too, and they welcomed her, but she understood that the clan needed time to heal, that whatever was going on with Xanatos needed to be dealt with very carefully before she could settle in. Angela was gentle and kind, she laughed softly and was eager to learn more about this time, this place, about humans and gargoyles alike.

"I don't mind having her around at all. We're like sisters. It's nice to have some girl energy around for once," Elisa said to Brooklyn one evening, coffee in one hand and a frosted donut in the other - the breakfast of 'champions', she often described.

Brooklyn grinned at that. "Girl energy," he repeated, with implied quotes in the air. "As opposed to what?"

Elisa crossed her legs at the ankle and pressed her back to the stone wall, gesturing toward the rest of the room. The other gargoyles were engaged in assorted conversations around the television. "All of this testosterone."

"Testoster-what?"

Elisa paused. "You know, sometimes I forget that you're not human, actually. I guess you guys don't have the same hormones we do."

Brooklyn laughed, arms crossing. "Or the same views on gender."

That piqued her interest. "Really?" Elisa asked around a mouth full of donut. Sprinkles collected in the corners of her mouth.

The gargoyle shrugged. "I can't say what it's like for modern gargoyles, but back in my day -"

Elisa interrupted with a laugh. "Did you hike to school uphill both ways?"

Brooklyn blinked, lost.

"Nevermind," Elisa waved her hand, sucked frosting off of her thumb.

"Anyway," Brooklyn continued with a nod toward the rest of the clan. He was distracted for a moment watching Broadway and Lexington argue over the last donut, unaware that Bronx had already plucked it from the box and was trotting away with it. Brooklyn smiled, giggling to himself when Angela finally pointed out to them what had happened. Broadway and Lex paused, stared at the empty box, and then fell into each other, laughing.

And it was almost as if nothing had ever hurt them, for just a second.

"Anyway?"

"Hm?" Brooklyn jerked back to Elisa, then straightened his back against the wall. "Oh, yeah. Anyway -" He had to drag his eyes away from the others to stay focused, otherwise he'd just watch them be happy for the rest of the evening. "Back then, before the humans came, the only real distinction among us was that some of us can lay eggs and some of us can't. There was no girl or boy or whatever, just … gargoyle. It wasn't until the humans came that we started using words like brother and sister, and it was only because they couldn't wrap their heads around the way we worked. Some of us became hes and some of us became shes by their standards, but to be honest, I still don't really understand why humans think that the world has to exist like that. Confined." Brooklyn shook his head. "Humans focus too much on what is different. Gargoyles focus on what is the same."

Elisa smiled fondly at him. She reached out and held his arm, squeezed it. "Humans could learn a lot from you guys."

"You think?" Brooklyn's eyes darted toward the others again. Broadway and Lex glanced at him as if they sensed it. The trio smiled at each other.

"Yeah," Elisa said, observing all of this behind the lip of her coffee cup. "In a lot of ways."

"How's it like out there, anyway?" Brooklyn asked, holding up a finger to Lex and Broadway when they gestured for him to join them.

Elisa sighed. "Usual. Except for the weird weather."

Brooklyn barely heard her, his mind fighting two moonmates mentally begging him to come sit with them - they were getting very good at this nearly telepathic thing. He shot them a grin, another finger. "Oh yeah?" He questioned, disinterested.

"You should see some of the people on the street. They're calling it the end times." Elisa shook her head. "It's been warmer than what's considered normal this time of year. Less snow. And then there's the business with the moon."

That caught Brooklyn's attention. He faced Elisa fully now. "What about the moon?"

Elisa sipped at her coffee. "Something to do with the phases, I'm not sure. Apparently it skipped a couple. One day it was a sliver, the next day it was full."

The only thing that kept him from sprinting out of the clocktower to face the moon himself was the fact that it would shatter the tranquility in the room.

"Caused quite a stir, actually. Didn't you guys see it on the news?"

Brooklyn shook his head. The clan had been so wrapped up in each other that they had hardly been paying any attention to the outside world. What was more disturbing to him was that he had not sensed anything - didn't being moon-bonded grant him some sort of special treatment? "What do they think happened?"

Elisa shrugged. "I don't know. But really, as long as the world keeps spinning, it can't be that big of a deal, right?"

Brooklyn reluctantly nodded. Elisa just got home a few weeks ago - she wanted to get back to normal as much as they did. Anything that was going to put their newly found sense of peace in jeopardy was worth ignoring. He didn't blame her for walking away from the conversation, for sitting on Goliath's lap on the couch and slipping into theirs as if she had been a part of it all along. Hold onto this moment, this certainty, this calm.

Outside, the moon called him. Brooklyn hesitated, met Broadway and Lex's eyes across the room. Their expressions became curious, confused, sensing his sudden shift in mood. But he smiled, took what he had heard and tucked it away somewhere. Not now, he told himself. He would deal with it later. Right now they had peace, peace that they had fought and bled for, and he was going to hold onto it as tightly as he could for as long as he was able.

He finally joined them on the floor, Broadway on his right and Lex on his left, feeling whole, and he ignored the calling of the very thing that gave him his wholeness. To his credit, he tried to feel guilty.

* * *

"Easy, easy," Lexington panted, a hand flattening over his chest. He winced and let his head fall back on Brooklyn's sternum. "Hold on."

Broadway immediately halted his descent. He pulled back but hovered close over Lexington, brow creased with worry. The hand he had wrapped around Lexington's hip started to loosen but the smaller gargoyle covered it with one of his own, permitting it to stay.

"Are you okay?" Brooklyn said into Lex's ear. He was breathless, dizzy, having not been this close and this intimate with either of them in far too long. They had barely started and he already felt like he was floating; the world started to dissolve at the edges, but with the tension tightening in Lexington's body, it started to sharpen again. Brooklyn's hands rested on Lexington's shoulders, massaging gently. "We can stop."

"I'm okay, I just. It hurts when I get excited." Lexington rubbed at his scar with a frown. "God, what if it's faulty? What if it needs to be worked on as I get older? Am I going to have to have a yearly check up with Xanatos and his weird boyfriend?"

Broadway shushed him gently. "We'll cross that bridge when it comes, Lex."

Lexington pouted. He flexed one hand over the tent of Brooklyn's knee. "I don't want you to think I didn't enjoy what you were doing with your mouth just now," he said to Broadway, who grinned in response. "I just can't go as fast as I used to."

"That's okay," Brooklyn purred into Lex's ear. "Everyone likes a slow burn."

Lexington's laugher could have ignited a dead star. Brooklyn sighed happily, rested his beak on the slope of Lex's smooth head, and met Broadway's twinkling eyes over it. He could have died happy in that moment, he thought, with Lexington resting against him and Broadway working his magic on his trembling front. Just like that. What a way to go, what a last sight to see.

"Slow and steady wins the race anyway, right?" Broadway said, lowering his head until Brooklyn could hear his lips planting a kiss on Lexington's stomach.

"A strange… human idiom," Lexington attempted. His head fell back again and his eyes closed. Brooklyn chuckled in his ear, watching a smile curl on Lex's lips.

Broadway hummed. "Something to do with a rabbit and a turtle, right?"

"The tortoise and the hare," Lexington corrected in a soft whisper. Brooklyn could feel the tension slipping out of his body like water.

"I dare you to try and tell the story before Broadway makes you moan," Brooklyn challenged. Broadway paused long enough in his task to flash a grin.

Lexington laughed, breathless. "I don't think I'll get very far."

The other two joined him in laughter, and soon they were nearly tumbling off of the couch in a fit, holding onto each other while their whole bodies shook with it. Brooklyn felt like golden light was filling him up - god, he wanted to weep with joy at the sound of it.

Peace made them all so soft. He would have given up anything to preserve it.

It took Brooklyn a moment to realize, once the laughter subsided, that the shaking of the couch was not a result of Broadway's booming, vibrating guffaw. The trio paused as one and shared similar confused looks.

"What-?"

Brooklyn wasn't sure which one of them spoke, maybe it was even him, but they were interrupted by the shattering sound of glass; one of the panes in the clockface erupted, and it rained down in a brilliant spray. Scrambling off of one another, the gargoyles got to their feet but found it difficult to stand. The room - no, the entire building was trembling all around them.

"What's going on?" Lexington grabbed Brooklyn's elbow, his voice high and shrill. Brooklyn wrapped a wing around him, opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find his voice through the violent clattering of his teeth.

Just like that, the peace vanished, ripped out from under them as soon as they had found their footing. Panic and confusion had swiftly taken its place in his heart again. It greeted him like an old friend.

"I think -" Broadway threw out his arms to find his balance. "I think it's an earthquake," Broadway called in disbelief over the rumble of the building groaning around them. Another pane of glass shattered with a bang, and cracked stone began to rain down on them from the ceiling. Brooklyn lifted a wing to protect his head and tucked Lexington closer.

"We gotta get outside!" Brooklyn rushed toward the steps with Lexington in tow, grabbing for Broadway on his way. They didn't argue; the trio crushed glass under the thick soles of their feet and made it out onto the balcony. It shuddered under their weight. Brooklyn twisted to look at the clocktower as the three of them jumped onto the banister and watched with a slack jaw as the massive hour hand snapped from its position and swung loosely to face the giant VI with a loud, metallic squeal.

"Brooklyn," Lexington shook him. "Look," he said, and pointed out over the city.

Brooklyn reluctantly tore his eyes away from the clock and his jaw might as well have sailed to the ground. Manhattan was splitting like the very hands of God reached from the sky to pry it apart. A rift the width of two city buses cracked the surface of the island and ripped its way through entire blocks. The sound was deafening; only the screaming was louder than the sound of the earth tearing in half. Buildings sagged, long lines splintering through concrete before gravity forced them to fall. New York avalanches had nothing on mountains. Brooklyn stared in shock at the widening mouth in the ground and watched as cars fell into its gaping maw, the jagged pavement from torn streets like serrated teeth, and he waited for the whole city to be swallowed and disappear.

And then it stopped. As abruptly as it began, Manhattan stopped shaking, stopped sinking. Brooklyn's ears rang as dust billowed from fallen buildings and bloomed over them like a mushroom cloud.

"Get down!"

Broadway's wings closed around Brooklyn and Lexington in an airtight cocoon. His arms looped around either of their waists and yanked them from the banister. They crouched on the balcony wrapped tightly around one another. In the distance, sirens screamed.

They were nearly making love just a few minutes ago. They were finally comfortable and laughing and it was peaceful, everything was beautiful and right for just a moment, alone in the clocktower while Goliath and Hudson patrolled -

Goliath and Hudson.

Brooklyn's eyes shot open. He forced himself out of the safety of Broadway's wings and threw himself against the banister. Dust filled his mouth when he opened it, stole his voice when he shouted. He coughed hard into his elbow and tried again. "Goliath! Hudson!" He couldn't see - the dust was as thick as smoke and the earthquake had knocked out all of the city lights. It was endless, gritty darkness. "Hudson! Goliath!"

"Brooklyn?!"

It was not Goliath or Hudson's voice. Brooklyn turned around but could only make out Broadway and Lexington directly in front of him.

"Elisa?" Broadway called. He stretched his wings and gave each a hard thrust; the dust swarmed with the force and granted an empty space where Elisa emerged.

"You guys!" Elisa ran into Broadway's arms. "Are you alright?" She shouted over the sirens, over the sound of car horns and people screaming below.

"We're okay." Broadway held her at arms length and gave her a thorough once over. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she assured, eyes jumping over to Lexington and Brooklyn, then searching for the others. Her face fell when she didn't see them. "Where's Hudson? Goliath?"

"Where's Angela?" Broadway spoke over her, and then Lexington said something, but Brooklyn couldn't make it out - their voices became one loud buzz in his head. He stepped away from them to the banister and stared down at the city as it began to come back into focus, the dust rising to become another cloud in the night sky. Red and blue lights filled the darkness.

Where was that moment, again? What did it feel like, with Lexington against his chest, and Broadway's heat all around them? Did the past mean anything once it became the past? Where did it go?

Brooklyn tried to remember. He reached for it and grabbed nothing but empty air.

"You're okay!"

Brooklyn slammed back into himself. He whipped around just as Goliath, Hudson, and Angela appeared in the dust and dropped to the balcony. Broadway, Lexington, and Elisa rushed to them in relief and there were hugs, exclamations, explanations - and Brooklyn could barely understand a word of it. He watched them like he was trying to see through a thick film. He felt numb. Even his panic was diluted, like he'd been filled with something other than his own blood.

His eyes closed briefly. Where was that moment?

Would they ever have another one?

Would it always be like this, one tragedy after another?

Could he live like that?

"Brooklyn."

He opened his eyes. Goliath stood in front of him, reached out and cupped Brooklyn's face in his large hands. "You're alright," Goliath said, and Brooklyn wasn't sure if he meant it as a reassurance to himself or to Brooklyn. Perhaps it was both.

"Everything was fine a minute ago," Brooklyn heard himself saying. "And now it's not. Just like that."

Goliath nodded gravely. "I know." He pulled Brooklyn to his chest and sighed. "I know."

Brooklyn wound his arms around Goliath's torso. Over his shoulder, he met Lex and Broadway's eyes. They were scared. He didn't have to be moon-bonded to know.

They would have their peace again. Brooklyn tightened his grip. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would get their peace back.

* * *

"They were there almost the second the shaking started," Angela said. She angled her wings to come in closer to Brooklyn's side. "They were patrolling right around the corner. Elisa's building is okay. I've never seen anything like this, we didn't have earth shakes on Avalon -"

"Earthquakes," Brooklyn said. He stared straight ahead. "They're called earthquakes."

"Oh. Sorry." Angela ducked her head, eyes scanning the ground.

He realized a moment too soon that he had snapped at her - and for nothing. Brooklyn sighed. "I'm sorry, Angela. I didn't mean -"

"No, it's okay. Really." She offered a weak smile and sighed, eyes traveling across fallen buildings and the rift that they followed like a line on a map. "I'm just … trying to talk this out to myself. Trying to make sense of it. I babble when I'm nervous."

"And I get snappy when I'm away from Lex and Broadway." Brooklyn frowned, still bitter over Goliath's decision to separate them, but he had to admit the reasoning was sound. He wouldn't be able to focus on directing Elisa's legion of help with his earpiece if he was too busy worrying about Lex and Broadway.

"You guys are very close." Angela said. Her smile was warm. "It's something I hope to have someday."

Brooklyn mirrored her smile. "You will," he assured.

Up there, away from the wreckage of Manhattan, it was easy to believe that the only thing that existed was gargoyles and the sky. He glanced at the moon, swollen and full when she shouldn't be, silently asking if Lex and Broadway were okay. He closed his eyes for a moment, searched for them, found them like they each carried a unique signature only he could sense. They were okay. Brooklyn released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. As long as they stayed that way, then everything else would fall into place.

He glanced down at the crumbled pile of earth and cringed. Maybe those weren't the best choice of words.

"Down there." Angela pointed below them. "Do you hear that?"

Brooklyn angled his ear - he did. Cries for help. "Yeah." He eased his wings in and began to descend. "Elisa," he said, a finger over the piece in his ear. "How soon can you get down 105th?"

Elisa's voice came in like she spoke with a mouth full of poprocks. "-at least - an hour-"

Brooklyn clipped his teeth. They were getting too far away from her - any farther and they'd be completely out of range. But whoever was down there didn't have an hour. He tucked his wings closer and let the wind rip through him as he fell.

"Brooklyn," Angela called, speeding after him. "We're not supposed to be seen!"

"I don't know what it was like on Avalon, but here, rules are meant to be broken." Brooklyn crouched as he landed on top of what must have been a building, now nothing but a pile of concrete pieces.

Angela reluctantly landed beside him. "Elisa was very clear - we're just supposed to be lookouts and direct help. If people see us then they might think we had something to do with the earthquake, or the moon acting strange, and people are already panicked enough as it is -"

"Angela, listen." Brooklyn held up a hand. Angela paused, and shattering the night sky came another high pitched scream, this time much closer. "They sound pretty panicked right now, don't you think?"

Angela didn't waste another moment in hesitation. She nodded, and together they climbed down the broken building and followed the stranger's cries for help.

"We're coming!" Angela called, right on Brooklyn's heels as they leaped over discarded rubble.

The voice became more and more clear as the distance began to shorten - instead of just screaming, there were words: help, I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall!

Brooklyn pushed himself faster, whipped around a corner so quickly he very nearly fell right into the rift that had started tearing Manhattan in half. Angela careened into his back with a loud smack. He grunted at the force of the impact and wheeled his hand around to grab Angela by the elbow to keep himself from tumbling in.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

He nodded, staring deep into the crater. He searched for the bottom and found none - it just disappeared into blackness, like a void. Brooklyn shuddered and it was not from the chill of the wind.

It seemed … unnatural.

Brooklyn stifled a dry laugh. The only thing that felt natural these days was his clan. Everything else was a shitshow, as far as he was concerned.

"Help!"

The cry tore him out of his daze. He looked out across the rift - at its widest point, further inland, it was at least the size of a football fiel d. It narrowed considerably where they stood, but the other side was still at least fifty feet away. Close enough for the sharp eye of a gargoyle to see everything perfectly, and Brooklyn's breath caught at what he saw. He could hardly believe it.

Trapped in the backseat of a taxi was the same person Brooklyn had made eye contact with the night Lexington plunged from the top of the clocktower. It had to be the same person - he'd recognize that mane of ruby red hair anywhere.

"Small world," Brooklyn mumbled.

The redhead was not in good shape. The glass of the backseat's door window had shattered, and from the looks of things, it had done so from the force of their head hitting it. Even from where he stood, Brooklyn could see long lines of blood streaming down their forehead, into their eyes. But that wasn't the part that made Brooklyn's heart climb into his throat.

The taxi was hanging nose first right over the rift. The only thing that was keeping it from slipping into the unknown was a bulge of rock on the front drivers side tire.

"Oh no." Angela's breath rushed out of her like she had been stepped on.

"Bet you never saw anything like this on Avalon, huh?" Brooklyn started walking backwards. Angela wordlessly joined him. Together they charged for the edge of the crater and jumped off, catching the air on their wings and soaring over the yawning mouth below them. Brooklyn tried not to look down - he had never been afraid of heights - but this was different. At least a fear of heights implied hitting the ground at some point; he wasn't sure that whatever this was had the decency to end anywhere. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did.

It scared the hell out of him.

As soon as their feet hit the other side, the earth protested by crumbling. Angela shrieked and Brooklyn just barely caught her by the wrist, yanking her up over the edge as the ground where she had stood was swallowed into the darkness. There wasn't a moment to ask if she was okay - the shifting ground caused the taxi to groan and slip further into the earth, accompanied with the terrified sobs of the redhead trapped inside.

"We're coming! Hold on!" Brooklyn broke into a sprint with Angela beside him. They came up onto the back of the taxi and punctured the metal of the trunk with the loud screech of their claws. The taxi's descent slowed as Angela and Brooklyn shoved their heels into the dirt. Brooklyn huffed from the strain and looked through the back window. It was splintered but still in tact, and through the cracked lines he met the human's eyes again, recognized the same startled fear that he had seen when him and Lexington nearly crashed on top of them. And they recognized him, too, clear as day, their mouth falling open in surprise. They formed a word that Brooklyn could see but not hear. 'You.'

"Don't be afraid." Angela somehow managed to sound peaceful despite talking through her clenched teeth. "We're here to help."

The stranger's eyes, damp with tears, studied both of them in shocked silence before giving a slow, uncertain nod. Brooklyn recognized that look: it said, I don't have much of a choice.

Brooklyn turned to Angela. "Can you hold this while I get them out?"

Angela filled her cheeks with air before blowing it out. "I can try."

He looked to the stranger again. "I'm coming around. I'm gonna pull you through the window, okay?"

The redhead stuttered, blinking their eyes rapidly. When they found their words again, their voice cracked, riddled with panic and sore from screaming. "I think - I think the driver is dead! I think he's dead, I think he's dead -!"

"Hey, hey, look at me, look at me. Remember when I saved my friend?"

Angela gave him a quizzical look that he ignored. The human met his eyes through the fractured glass and nodded. Their lower lip trembled so hard it consumed the upper.

"I'm not gonna let you fall either. I promise." Brooklyn smiled as best as he could with the weight of the taxi in his claws. "Stay still for me, okay?"

The human tucked in their chin. Brooklyn looked at Angela for reassurance and waited for her affirming nod before he slowly withdrew his talons from the trunk of the taxi. Angela grunted out of the corner of her mouth, "Hurry," as the car now rested entirely in her hands.

Brooklyn promptly obeyed. He shifted around the corner of the trunk and pressed his front to the side of the car. The taxi was nearly at a ninety degree angle and there wasn't much ground to put his feet into to anchor himself. He hesitated, glancing between the shattered open window and the void below. His stomach rolled.

"Brooklyn, hurry." Angela pressed. Her face turned several shades of red with the effort.

"Brooklyn?"

Brooklyn's eyes snapped back to the window - the human was peeking out at him, blinking through tears and blood.

"Like the bridge?" they whispered, swallowing hard. Their fear was palpable; it thickened the air between them, made it hard to breathe. The human choked.

Brooklyn smiled, trying to ease their panic. "Yeah. Like the bridge." He inched carefully forward and stepped down until his foot found a suitable perch on the inside of the rift wall. He braced the talon at the tip of one of his wings against the car and his other foot on the tire, and then stretched - the strain made his body tremble, all of his weight on one foot and one wing.

"Brooklyn, you need to hurry up, I can't hold on much longer!"

"Look at me," Brooklyn spoke to the human, ignoring Angela's words and the sound of the metal tearing around her claws. "I need you to climb out of the window."

The human shook their head. Strands of red hair stuck to the blood and tears on their face. "I can't move." The voice was hardly a whisper.

"Yes you can. I know you're scared, but you can do it. I need you to climb out of the window and then I'll grab you, okay? I can't reach you from here without falling."

The human squeezed their eyes shut and took a deep breath that caught in a hiccup in their throat. "Promise you won't let me fall?"

"I promise."

With another deep breath, the redhead held it, curled their bleeding hands around the edge of the window and pulled themselves through. The shifting weight caused the car to slide and Angela screamed something with urgency that Brooklyn couldn't hear over the roaring of his heart in his ears. He pushed off of the rift wall and hooked his hands under the human's arms as they emerged from the window.

"It's going!" Angela cried, scrambling to find her footing as the car began slipping out of her grip. "Move!"

"Hold on!" Brooklyn tore the human from the car. They scrambled against him, searching for purchase and finding it by wrapping their arms tightly around his neck. He held fast to her with one arm, the other clawing into the dirt as the taxi's weight finally won out on Angela, smacking its back end against the inside of the crater before being swallowed by darkness.

He waited with bated breath to hear the sound of it crashing into the bottom but it never came.

"Brooklyn!"

He twisted his neck to look up at Angela and realized with the human's scream rattling his eardrum that they were sliding down the inside of the crater. Brooklyn tightened his arm around the redhead's waist and dug his claws deeper into the dirt to slow their descent. "Here!" He hoisted the human against his hip. "I need you to reach for Angela. Come on. Come on, I got you."

Shaking, crying so hard that their whole body rattled against Brooklyn's, the human thrust their hand into the air above them without lifting their head out of his shoulder. Angela grabbed it and pulled her out of Brooklyn's arms and he watched as she disappeared over the ledge of the rift. Brooklyn pierced the dirt with his feet and climbed after them, panting hard by the time he scrambled to safety and collapsing flat against the cracked pavement with a heaving sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

Brooklyn pried his head from the pavement. The human was propped up on their elbows, face smeared with dried blood and tear tracks, and they were smiling at him like he - well. Like he saved their life.

Brooklyn smiled back at them. He pushed himself to his knees and met their eyes. He could still be a hero, even when everything was going to hell. Even if it was just for one person. He was still good. The world could tear itself into pieces and he would still be good.

He glanced up at the sky, at the heavy orb of the moon. It washed the three of them in white. It seemed closer somehow, bigger, and the humans were all too busy to notice. Brooklyn wondered if he should be concerned.

He didn't care, just then. It was a moment of peace. Maybe that's all they would get from now on. Small instances of calm under the mercy of the moon.

It wasn't much, but he would take it.

* * *

Angela didn't agree with Brooklyn's plan to separate but didn't argue in front of the human. Brooklyn insisted they needed a guide considering their head wound - "what if they pass out on the way back?" (the redhead blushed at his concern) - but didn't want to give up on their search of the wreckage - "what if someone else needs help?" (the stranger found this admirable as well and it made Brooklyn feel like a superhero).

Angela shot him a look over her shoulder that said, very firmly, 'be careful', as she lead the human away from the rift. They stopped before disappearing around a mountain of rubble, calling for Brooklyn in the dark.

"My name is Ro." Their smile was trembling but gentle. "I hope no one is falling to their death the next time we meet."

Brooklyn cracked a grin. "Good thing I got wings, huh?" He flexed them for show.

Ro laughed. Angela folded an arm around their shoulders and gave Brooklyn another puzzling look. He waved them off. When he was satisfied that he was alone, Brooklyn tiptoed to the edge of the rift again and peered down. It was the middle of the night, most of Manhattan's lights had been knocked out by the quake, and the only guide he had to see by was what the moon provided, but even that kind of darkness was dwarfed in comparison by the void below him. It was not just darkness - it was absence, a total lack of any shred of light at all.

He knew that wasn't possible, logically. Geographically. The inside of the earth was rock and stone and lava. It had to end somewhere. But even his eyes, crafted for nightlife and significantly sharper than any human, could not see the bottom.

Fear pulled him away from the edge but he pretended it was determination instead. The humans would have to deal with the crater in the daytime. He had a mission. He was a hero again, and despite the circumstances, he felt useful. Strong. Good.

Brooklyn pressed on, deciding to stick to the ground rather than the sky in case there were any others like Ro close to the rift. The lack of humans he heard and saw disturbed him and he tried not to think about what the death toll would be after such a massive disaster. He hoped Lex and Broadway and the others were all getting a chance to save some people tonight because the humans of Manhattan had a very long road of healing ahead of them and Brooklyn had an idea of how taxing that could be.

Not now, he told himself. Be a hero now. Mourn later.

The only building left standing was the Eyrie building - Xanatos' tower - and Brooklyn wasn't surprised. Not just because the building was a fortress with better infrastructure than probably any building on the planet, but also because David Xanatos was the luckiest piece of shit Brooklyn knew. No matter what happened, Xanatos always came out on top, usually at the expense of everyone around him. Brooklyn paused to survey the chaos, the fallen buildings and crushed cars, not even wanting to know just how many lives had been lost, how many days or weeks or months it would take to dig out all of the bodies, and then he looked at the tower again.

People were right when they said that money couldn't buy happiness. But it could buy safety. Shelter. Food. Every luxury that life had to offer. And wasn't that just about the same thing?

Even with whatever bullshit Xanatos was currently suffering, Brooklyn was sure that he would find some way to make a profit off of everyone else's.

Brooklyn stopped walking when the chasm in the earth narrowed to a perfect point and he very nearly laughed at the absurdity: it ended - or began - barely an inch from Xanatos' front step. Brooklyn stared at it, then let his eyes crawl the length of the building until his head tilted as far back as it would go, until it disappeared into the clouds. He wondered just how much it would take to knock it all down. Would the world itself end and leave nothing in tact but the Eyrie building? Would that be Xanatos' legacy?

Even with Wyvern castle at the top, Brooklyn wouldn't mind seeing everything Xanatos owned turned into dust.

A sudden flash of movement in his peripherals made Brooklyn duck, an adopted reflex of the times: stay out of sight of the humans. He lifted a wing to shield himself, confident that the dark would cloak the rest, but he paused as his eyes penetrated the darkness ahead. Sifting through the rubble alongside the right flank of Xanatos' tower was a bent figure, grunting and huffing as it pushed aside entire blocks of concrete in search of something. It sounded like it was eating - Brooklyn could hear the smacking of a mouth chewing. A few steps closer was all it took for Brooklyn to recognize the large familiar shape of his rookery brother, and he immediately let the tension slip out of his body.

"Broadway!" Brooklyn was beyond relieved, if a tad worried that he hadn't even sensed Broadway was nearby. Maybe there really was something wrong with the moon and it was affecting their bond - but it didn't matter just then. They were together and with Broadway in tow they could find Lexington and get back home -

Broadway turned to face him, his eyes beaming like headlights in the night. The aggressive display made Brooklyn halt in surprise. He was still some distance away but Brooklyn knew without a doubt that he hadn't mistaken him for someone else - it was dark, but those were Broadway's wings, those were the ridges along the center of his head …

A growl behind him made Brooklyn jump and spin around. What he saw didn't make sense and he had to squeeze them shut and shake his head violently and look again to confirm what it was.

"Lexington?" Brooklyn's voice cracked because he was wrong, he had to be wrong - whoever this was was not Lexington. The creature looked like Lexington, it crouched and moved like Lexington, it had his webbed wings and smooth head but everything else was wrong. Where Lexington's pigment was green, this imposter was as violet as a bruise. And, god, the eyes - the eyes were crimson, red like fire, red like blood.

Just like the blood smeared around its mouth.

Brooklyn backed away quickly, searching for Broadway, searching for help, for sense, but among the rubble there was only another fraud; the other gargoyle approached and he was as much Broadway as the other one was Lexington. His skin was a tired orange where Brooklyn longed for Broadway's baby blue, and he stared at Brooklyn with another pair of hellish eyes.

Dangling in shreds from the gargoyle's mouth was - god, Brooklyn's stomach rolled. It looked like skin.

"Who are you?!" Brooklyn shouted, stumbling over a chunk of rock and tripping backward until his back slammed into the side of the Eyrie building. "Why do you look like them? Who are you?! Who are you?!"

Neither of them spoke. They closed in on both sides, grinning in ways that those faces were never meant to. Their stare was hateful. Alien. Hungry.

They stalked him like he was their prey.

Brooklyn couldn't catch his breath. Was this hell? Was this his very own version of it? He could think of no better torture - strangers wearing the faces of the loves of his life, forced to fight or flee, knowing he could never unsee the bloodlust in their eyes.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe he had died all those years ago back at the Wyvern castle, and this was hell. Trying to find peace in a time of guns and technology and war, a time where David Xanatos existed, and being and this was his punishment.

He wondered, as the creatures who looked like his moonmates but weren't rushed to strike him, what he had done to deserve it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Trigger Warnings** for this chapter: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Blood, violence.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

There was a moment as long as one breath between Brooklyn realizing he was going to be killed by gargoyles who looked nearly identical to the two he loved most and when they attacked him to do just that, and in that brief moment, he thought about as many things as there are stars in the sky. What was most disturbing was that the very first of those thoughts was not of his clan; it was of Thailog.

Thinking about Thailog made Brooklyn's skin crawl so he just didn't do it - it was like his brain had decided that knowing a creature who resembled Goliath so much in appearance but not at all in mind or heart was so horrible that it rejected the idea entirely and he very nearly forgot Thailog existed at all. Goliath grieved for a long time over Thailog; he felt responsible for him like a parent would their son, and technically, clone or not, Thailog was clan. With so few of them left, Brooklyn knew that Goliath wanted to welcome Thailog with open arms. Goliath wanted to love him and would have, fiercely, just as he did the rest of the clan. The fact that Thailog was so different, vile in every way Goliath was decent, cruel in every way Goliath was kind, had hurt Goliath deeply. And for that, Brooklyn could not forgive Thailog, and it was one of the many, many things he could not forgive Xanatos for.

At the very least, Thailog was scarce. Brooklyn believed that Xanatos had learned his lesson the first time when he made the clone and Thailog turned out to be even smarter than Xanatos himself. It surely must have been a blow to Xanatos' massive ego to be outgunned by his own experiment.

Had he the time, Brooklyn would have closed his eyes and hung his head in his hands and sighed in defeated revelation.

Why would he make more, when the first had gone so wrong?

His second thought was not of his clan, either. It was only of himself - how scared and angry he was and how unfair the world was to him. Selfish thoughts. He didn't care. After everything, he had earned his right to be selfish.

But then, like always, his mind was full of his clan. Broadway. Lex. Goliath and Hudson. Angela and Elisa. Bronx. Their faces, the sound of their voices, the way they felt under his hands, every sense that he had interpreted them in this world filled his body until he was sure he would burst at the seams. Small comforts.

He met the hungry, angry, violent eyes of the clones in front of him. The smaller of the two licked at the blood dripping from his mouth, and Brooklyn's stomach turned. They looked just enough like the real Broadway and Lexington that Brooklyn knew if he were to survive this, it would haunt his dreams forever, and his next thought was that maybe he didn't want to live through this, if just for that fact.

His final thought before the pair attacked him was that at least he had always known how loved he was.

Brooklyn took another breath and the moment ended - the vicious Lexington and Broadway clones pounced and Brooklyn's thoughts scattered like shredded paper to the wind. All he knew for several moments after was pain and the familiar-but-not sensation of the clones' bodies wrestling around him. This was not the soft caresses of his rookery brother, these were not their gentle arms all around him, or their sweet kisses on his neck - this was scrambling, tearing, fighting, biting. They pulled and twisted his arms until his bones screamed with the strain, slammed their fists into the underside of his beak and slashed with their talons. Sharp teeth punctured his thick gargoyle skin in the way only gargoyle teeth can at the curve of his neck, his forearm, and he fought - God, he fought, but his strength was dwarfed under the no doubt enhanced power of both of them. Their combined weight forced him to the ground and the rubble of the street bit into his knees.

They were going to kill him. They were going to eat him. Brooklyn roared and his eyes flashed but when he tried to shove them off and stand, the bigger of the two grabbed the radius bone of Brooklyn's wing with both hands and swiftly snapped it.

The crack startled Brooklyn before the pain did. When it came it stole his breath and he was unable to even cry out before the two large hands abandoned his broken wing to grab his throat instead. Broadway - Broadway's clone - heaved him off of the street and held him in the air by the neck, crushing his windpipe until it sealed shut.

Initially Brooklyn struggled with all of the pent up strength of a caged beast but the fight drained out of him as his brain was deprived of oxygen. His movements slowed and weakened even as panic and fear made his heart race faster. He didn't look at the clones, instead searched desperately in the sky above him for the comfort of the moon, but the dust from the earthquake and the clouds hid her from him. He would not be allowed even that small mercy.

Blood vessels burst in his eyes and stars collected in his vision and Brooklyn knew he was dying, he was going somewhere else, somewhere the others would not be able to reach him. He was the one who asked them to keep this promise and now he was the one breaking it.

He hoped and prayed that they would forgive him.

What brought him the most shame was not that they had overpowered him, not that he was going to die and leave the others alone and traumatized forever, but that for a moment, what he knew was one of his last, was that he almost felt … relieved.

His fight was over. He didn't have to suffer anymore.

Brooklyn closed his eyes.

He heard his name and he almost smiled because of course the voice he heard would be of one of his clan - maybe that was the moon's way of soothing him as he died. He thought he had well earned that by now. But then his name came again and Brooklyn could tell that Lexington was afraid. Lexington was closer. And then, Goliath, too, both screaming his name from somewhere above him.

Brooklyn wondered like most living things what it was like on the other side. Even if it was nothing, at least nothing was peaceful. At least in nothing there was no pain. He wanted to let go. He wanted to slip away like he was falling asleep and know that he wouldn't ever have to worry about waking up and find that things were even worse than before. It seemed easy; relax and slip away.

Brooklyn's heart slowed in his ears.

And then he felt his bond with Lexington and Broadway thrum inside of him like a guitar string. Music in his chest. They were reaching out for him, calling to him, sensing his pain and fear as well as if it were their own. All in half a second he was reminded how deep their love was for him and it made his eyes burn with tears. Although they remained closed, he could see the moon, finally, a bright white orb in the darkness that was moments away from enveloping him and everything he was, everything he had ever been. She was there and he could feel her promise of peace and he knew she would make it all go away and there would be no more shame. He could finally rest.

Lexington's voice, again. Broadway, somewhere farther away, but coming closer, as fast as the wind could carry him. They were coming to save him.

Brooklyn opened his eyes. What he could make out was dull and fuzzy and fading fast and it was just a nightmare wearing Broadway's face, flesh dangling from his mouth and his hungry eyes watching and waiting for Brooklyn to die.

No. Brooklyn searched for the strength to pull back his leg. This would not be the last thing he saw in this life. He would not allow Lexington to see him die like this. He would not abandon them. He would fight with his very last breath for them. Always.

Brooklyn's last ounce of strength was just enough to send his foot into the flat of the clone's chest. He was bigger, stronger, but he stumbled, just a little, and it was enough to distract him as two familiar shapes landed in the shadows and rubble beyond and came storming at his back.

"Brooklyn!"

The clone holding Brooklyn turned to look at the advancing gargoyles. His grip on Brooklyn's neck loosened and air tore through his lungs with a loud, gasping sound. The clone abruptly released him and Brooklyn crumpled to the ground like a battered ragdoll. Being inches away from death almost made Brooklyn forget about his broken wing but landing on the damaged extremity swiftly reminded him; pain ripped through him like a gunshot.

"Ah!" Brooklyn rolled off of his wing, tried to sit up and search for Lexington in the confusion. He found him, with Goliath at his heels, and they had both frozen in their tracks at the sight of the clone that looked so much like Broadway.

His blood laced with ice. Where was the other one?

He found him a moment too late. The words "Look out!" had barely left his mouth when the other clone leaped out of the darkness and tackled Lexington. Goliath did not have time to intervene - the Broadway clone had replaced Brooklyn with Goliath as his target and was closing the distance between them quickly.

Even getting to his knees seemed impossible but Brooklyn somehow managed. His entire body was a canvas of bruises, claw marks, and blood, and it ached all over with his broken wing at the epicenter. He got one foot under him and started to stand but before he could get that far, something as heavy and forceful as stone rammed into his back. Once again his breath was knocked right out of him and it was only at the last second that he was able to angle his fall away from his broken wing. Brooklyn rolled, gasping, and stared up into another mask of someone he loved.

It was Hudson only in form. His skin was yellow, his eyes were red, and he looked down at Brooklyn with the same ugly ferocity as the other clones.

Brooklyn crawled backwards and stumbled to his feet as the Hudson clone hovered close. Brooklyn's broken wing hung loose and awkward around his shoulder; he wasn't sure he could fight like this and win but his choices were limited. He wanted to look around for Lex and Goliath but couldn't afford to take his eyes off of the clone in front of him - he could hear them fighting - at the very least, they were alive.

How much longer, though, he couldn't say.

The Hudson clone growled at him, made a false jump forward that caused Brooklyn to flinch. He was teasing him. He enjoyed Brooklyn's unease, his fear, his pain. The cruel grin that formed on his mouth made Brooklyn's skin crawl. His black teeth were stained with someone's blood.

There was not a shred of his clan in these creatures, DNA be damned.

With a loud roar, the clone charged. Brooklyn was prompt with collecting his left hand into a fist since his dominant arm was left weakened by the damaged wing. When they collided, Brooklyn had the satisfaction of landing a blow; blood erupted from the Hudson clone's nose under Brooklyn's fist, but the satisfaction was brief. Either the clone could not feel pain or chose to ignore it because he hoisted Brooklyn into the air without even pausing to blink. Heaving Brooklyn over his head, the gargoyle hurled him like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. There was no adjusting his fall this time; pain tore through Brooklyn's wing, down his side and across his ribs, like a tidal wave ready to consume him whole, as he skidded across the shredded ground. He couldn't catch his breath, let alone get up, and he knew Hudson's clone was charging at his back and there was nothing he could do but lie there and wait.

Every gargoyle hoped, even secretly, that they would eventually pass peacefully in their sleep, despite being a race of protectors and warriors. He learned through Elisa that most humans did, too. Brooklyn tried not to think about it too much but he had always assumed that him and Lex and Broadway would all go out together, close as they were, stone at night. Then their statues would be broken down to dust and returned to the wind. It was a tranquility that they earned a long time ago.

Perhaps peace had simply never been written in their stars.

"Oh no ya don't, ya ugly bastard!"

Brooklyn whirled. Hudson fell out of the sky like the world's most terrifying angel and landed on top of the clone. Hudson flattened him to the ground with a knee digging hard into his spine; the creature howled in pain and thrashed, a lassoed bull between Hudson's legs. Hudson grabbed the clone's mass of black hair and yanked him back to get a good look.

Hudson made a face. "Yikes, lad. I don't look this bad, do I?"

"Brooklyn!" Broadway dropped down a moment later. After seeing such horrid clones wearing their faces, Brooklyn had never been so relieved. Eyes big and wet and scared, Broadway rushed to Brooklyn's side only to stop just short of picking him off the ground. Brooklyn followed his line of sight to his snapped wing and watched as Broadway own wing twitched, like a phantom pain.

"So that's what I felt," Broadway whispered, brow crinkling in concern.

"It's alright," Brooklyn grunted. He threw out his hand and Broadway took it gently with one of his own and the other held Brooklyn at the elbow. "It'll heal while we sleep. Go help the others."

A warm palm pressed briefly to Brooklyn's face and he could see in Broadway's eyes that he was torn between wanting to help and wanting to stay. Brooklyn placed his hand over Broadway's.

"Go, baby."

Broadway set his mouth firmly and nodded. He ran toward the roars and scuffling deeper into the rubble and Brooklyn rushed quickly to Hudson, who was just barely keeping the clone pinned to the ground.

"A strong one, for sure!" Hudson huffed as he shifted with the gargoyle's violent thrashing. With a swift and practiced movement, Hudson pulled his blade from his hip and placed the sharp tip at the nape of the creature's neck. Threats the clone seemed to understand, because he immediately stilled. "That's what I thought." Hudson grinned, triumphant. "Nothing stands next to the original."

Dropping to his knees, Brooklyn leaned closer to examine the clone's face and he stared back at him with twisted, angry eyes, and a drooling mouth.

"Why would Xanatos make more clones?" Brooklyn shook his head. "Thailog was a disaster. It doesn't make sense."

"Does anything make much sense these days, hm?" Hudson turned his eyes up toward the Eyrie building as it loomed over them. "No doubt because that damned fool wanted ones easier to control. Without all the fancy gadgets and tricks and schemes." He turned his blade in his hand and used the flat of it to lift his clone's chin from the ground. "These poor things probably have nothing but instinct and Xanatos in their heads."

Brooklyn shuddered and backed away. "I'm going to help the others. Will you be okay?"

"You can't fight like that, lad." Hudson gestured toward Brooklyn's wing with his chin. "You're gonna get yourself more hurt."

"I can't stand here and do nothing. Can you handle him on your own?"

Hudson laughed. "This old fool? I think I can manage. Hurry back and be careful."

Brooklyn nodded. He turned and broke into a sprint, cradling his right arm to his chest and his right wing close to his back. Even the slight jostling from running made him wince with each step but he pushed on, until he rounded the rubble and found the others, each one of them alive. Brooklyn nearly collapsed with relief. Goliath and Broadway were both holding the snarling Broadway clone up against the side of the Eyrie building while Lex stood panting over the body of his own clone. For a moment Brooklyn thought the Lexington clone was dead and that shocked him - so very rarely had they killed, not since Wyvern times, and even then only when there was no other choice - but then the clone groaned and shifted on the rocks. Knocked out.

"Brooklyn." Lexington sprung over the rubble and wrapped his wiry body carefully around Brooklyn's. It had only been a few hours since they had seen each other last but it felt like a lifetime. Brooklyn supposed a near death experience probably does that to a person. He wrapped his good arm around Lexington's waist and pressed the side of his beak to his smooth head. "Your wing," Lexington whispered into his shoulder, sad and soft.

Brooklyn squeezed him tightly. "Don't worry. It'll heal. I'm just glad you guys are okay."

The two looked over to Goliath and Broadway just as Goliath delivered a skull rattling blow to Broadway's clone and he dropped, heavy and unconscious, to the ground.

"Brooklyn," Goliath said, worried, but Brooklyn shook his head.

"It's fine. We have to get out of here. The sun is going to rise soon. We'll have to deal with this tomorrow."

"What are we going to do with them?" Lexington asked, gesturing to the gargoyles at their feet.

"They are gargoyles, and like us, will soon be stone, too. They cannot do any damage then." Goliath frowned deeply as he stared between the two clones, head shaking. "They are not like Thailog. Thailog is cruel but intelligent. These are just … wild. Mindlessly violent. I do not think they even speak."

"They eat people."

It took a moment for Brooklyn to realize that he had not only sad that thought out loud, but that all three of them were staring at him with wide eyes.

"I saw them digging around … I think they were eating bodies." Brooklyn swallowed hard. He watched the others absorb this information with similar degrees of disgust. "Should we … I mean, should we really leave them to do that another night?"

Goliath hesitated. "These are gargoyles, Brooklyn. We cannot just-"

"Gargoyles bred and programmed to attack us and eat people, Goliath." Brooklyn did not yell but his voice was as sharp as glass.

Goliath, too, did not yell. His voice was large enough already. "So we are to become mindlessly violent as well?"

"Look at this!" Brooklyn stepped out of Lexington's hold and used his good arm to indicate the crumpled, broken, sunken buildings, the dark sky and the giant breach in the ground that swallowed half of Manhattan. "Everything is mindlessly violent! Everything has been since you disappeared. That future you saw is a prophecy and it's coming true all around us -"

Goliath's eyes flashed white. "No! It is not a prophecy, it is not coming true! There were no clones in the -"

Goliath froze. It seemed as if the wind had been knocked out of him by some invisible force; he wobbled and gasped. He reached out for Broadway for support and Broadway held him, shooting Brooklyn an uneasy glance.

"The Clone Wars." Goliath's voice was barely a whisper.

"What?" Brooklyn only knew that his blood was boiling when Lexington touched him and he felt abnormally cool.

"You said - future you, you in the dream, you said there were Clone Wars…" Goliath paled. He gripped Broadway's shoulder so tightly that the skin bleached beneath his claws. "That is how Hudson died."

A heartbeat. Brooklyn could feel every drop of blood in his body push through his veins, like someone was holding the earth at the tip to keep it from spinning. His own startling realization and all consuming fear was enough to take his breath away, but there was also Broadway's and Lexington's, and he wasn't sure how anyone could feel this much and not fall apart from the strain.

Goliath's eyes absorbed him, hollow with fear. His mouth dropped open and formed the word "no".

They ran together as one and even with his damaged wing Brooklyn did not fall behind.

"Hudson!"

He was not sure which one of them shouted. Leaping over the rubble, the clan emerged where they had started and Hudson was there, and he was alive, but the position Brooklyn had left him in was reversed; the clone was wrangled on top of Hudson, hands locked around his neck, and Hudson's head was craned backward into the abyss of the rift. Hudson's blade was kicked several feet away, still spinning in place.

"NO!" Goliath bellowed. His voice rattled Brooklyn's very bones. With a fury Brooklyn had only witnessed a handful of times, Goliath stormed forward, wings out and eyes bright white, until he could sink his claws into the broad back of Hudson's clone. The beast screeched and flexed his wings to try and spring Goliath off but Goliath was consumed with anger and fear, more fear than Brooklyn had ever seen in him, and he refused to relent.

Spitting and growling, the clone swung out a back leg to try and catch Goliath at the ankles. Goliath jumped to avoid it and used his momentum to shove the clone backwards. The earth crumbled under his weight at the edge of the breach.

Hudson, coughing and red in the face, rolled onto his side and snatched the stumbling clone by the foot. "Go to hell, ya son of a bitch!"

Arms twirling, the gargoyle fought to find his balance on the rift, but gravity was an enemy one couldn't fight; the clone fell backwards, the darkness of the void swallowing him before he even had a chance to open his wings. There would be no drafts down there to carry him.

For several long, silent moments, the clan just stood there, looking out over the edge, waiting for the clone to reappear, to hear him hit the ground, something. But there was nothing, only the quiet blackness. Once again, Brooklyn was disturbed by how unnatural this thing was, how it almost felt … alive.

"Is someone gonna help me up?"

Goliath tore himself out of his daze. He yanked Hudson to his feet and immediately pulled him into a crushing hug. The trio were quick to follow suit, draping off of the two at the center, all wings and talons and horns.

"I wasn't that close to being a goner, was I?" Hudson laughed it off, but he sounded relieved.

Goliath pressed his ridged brow to Hudson's with his eyes closed. "It has been a very long night."

"Aye." The clan slowly, reluctantly detached themselves. Hudson smiled at each of them, then turned to the sky. It was becoming pale at the edges. "I don't know about you, but this old man could use a good day's rest."

Goliath wrapped a protective arm around Hudson and held him close. "Me too, my friend. Let's get back to the clocktower."

"Goliath," Brooklyn began, but Goliath shot him a look that said many things, most of all 'it can wait'. Brooklyn snapped his beak shut and nodded. Goliath was right. After a night like this, anything could wait until tomorrow.

They were making their way toward the skeleton of a building tall enough to get some wind when Lexington slipped his hand into Brooklyn's and mumbled something that Brooklyn didn't catch.

"What?" Broadway said, hand on Lex's shoulder on the opposite side.

"I said we're missing one." Lexington frowned. "A clone." When his rookery brothers only looked at him with confusion, Lexington sighed. "There's no Goliath clone."

"Maybe Xanatos decided against it, after Thailog," Broadway suggested.

"Then why shock me half to death to get Goliath to go there?" Lexington shook his head. "It doesn't make sense."

"Like Hudson said earlier, not much is making sense these days." Brooklyn squeezed Lex's hand. "So which one of you is carrying me back to the clocktower, huh?"

"Only if you promise to rub my feet when we get home." Broadway's eyes were as close to playful as they could get, considering they were surrounded by Manhattan ruins.

Brooklyn took the bait, because something is always better than nothing. "Oh, come on. I'm injured and you're going to make me do favors for you?"

"These are hard times, Brooklyn, and my feet hurt. Take it or leave it."

"Or I could make little Lex carry me. You're strong enough, right?" Brooklyn started to fall into Lexington and nearly knocked him right off of his feet.

"Hey!" Lex went to shove him off, but Brooklyn trapped him against his side. "My heart is barely strong enough to keep me up there, let alone your heavy ass."

Brooklyn feigned shock. "Heavy?"

Broadway clicked his tongue. "I never."

"I hate both of you."

"My blade!"

Ahead of them, Hudson turned out of Goliath's grasp. Goliath's empty hand remained outstretched for a moment after, then slowly lowered back to his side. Hudson passed the trio on his way back toward the edge of the rift with a grin.

"A hero is only as good as his weapon, lads," he said "Heard that in one of them cartoons on the television and it rings true!"

Brooklyn smiled. At least all of this destruction hadn't changed them beyond recognition. He held Lexington closer as Goliath joined them, his eyes watching Hudson retreat for his sword.

"Goliath?"

"No, Brooklyn. Not now." Goliath sighed. He brought a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will tell him. Tomorrow."

"I was going to say that maybe the prophecy can be changed." When Goliath peeked over his fingers, Brooklyn continued. "I mean, you're here. That wasn't a part of the prophecy, right? Demona and I aren't together. You saved Hudson. So that must mean things can be different from what you saw."

Goliath held his hand over his mouth and stared at Brooklyn, then the ground. "It was horrible, that future. That place." He closed his eyes again, squeezed them hard. "It cannot happen. I will not allow it."

"Where is the bloody thing?!"

The clan looked up. Hudson was several feet off, overturning chunks of old building walls, a flat tire, a crushed garbage can.

"I swear if it fell in that hole, I'm goin' in after it."

"Friend," Goliath said, walking towards him. "We can search for it tomorrow. We have to get back to the clocktower."

"I don't have many things, Goliath. I have you all and my sword." Hudson turned around to face Goliath, hands on his hips. "I ain't leavin' until I have everything. Now, you can help me look, or -"

A white hand broke through the shadows behind Hudson like a beam of light. It closed around his neck and yanked him back. Hudson managed a startled, strangled noise before the darkness enveloped him.

Brooklyn's heart fell into his stomach.

"Hudson!" Goliath cried, and ran forward. The trio was quick to follow, but they only managed a few more steps until Hudson appeared again. His face was pale and slack but his eyes moved, looked at each of them slowly, helplessly.

Brooklyn had never in his life seen Hudson scared. It made him sick.

Hudson opened his mouth like he was going to say something but no words came, only blood. It coated his chin and chest with crimson.

Brooklyn felt more than saw Lexington drop to his knees; his eyes were frozen on Hudson in horror and shock.

The white hand appeared again, this time at Hudson's shoulder, with a swift and harsh tug. Hudson made a wet sound somewhere in his throat as the tip of his sword was forced through his heart, his ribcage, his skin.

Brooklyn did not realize he was crying until he felt the hot trail of his tears searing down his cheeks and then he, too, lost the strength to stand. Still, his eyes remained on Hudson as whoever held him in place released him and let him fall. When Hudson dropped and when he turned to the side, Brooklyn could see the length of the sword piercing him straight through.

Someone was screaming. Brooklyn thought maybe it was Goliath but couldn't tell. His ears were ringing. He had to look away from Hudson, he couldn't look at him as he fell lifeless to the earth. Movement in the shadows dragged his eyes away and an outline of white in the blackness startled him.

Goliath's clone. Skin like snow. Eyes as red as Hudson's blood. They held Brooklyn captive for what felt like an eternity. And when the beast moved again and Brooklyn realized, somehow, what he was going to do, it was Brooklyn who found his feet beneath him and tried to run.

Screaming. It was so loud. It was so loud and Brooklyn couldn't breathe, his vision was blurred by his tears but he had to stop him. So he ran. He ran and his throat was sore and it was him, he was the one screaming, he was screaming and the clone was putting his foot on Hudson's body, Hudson's limp body with no breath in it, his eyes open and empty and gone, the clone was shoving him toward the rift and watching Brooklyn while he did it.

Goliath roared. Brooklyn was still screaming. Lexington was screaming. But maybe that was only in his heart. Brooklyn could only feel Broadway's connection, but the rest of him was somewhere else, somewhere far.

The clone kicked Hudson in the back.

And like his clone before him, gravity won, gravity tore him down into the blackness. Brooklyn fell to his stomach and stretched over the edge of the rift and blinked tears into the void but there was nothing there. Nothing but his scream echoing off the walls of the earth.

Hudson's name filled the dark. He was gone.

Brooklyn stared deep into the rift, not sure if he was screaming anymore, not even aware if he was breathing at all. He wanted to fall into it. He wanted to see where it ended, where Hudson was now. Was it better than here?

Anywhere was better than here.

Broadway and Lex. Brooklyn gasped for air and turned away from the rift. His moonmates. His rookery brothers. His clan. His leader. They needed him.

Grief made him heavy. Brooklyn wasn't sure how he managed to stand. He felt like his chest was going to cave in and he put his arms around it like that would keep it in place. He searched for the white clone but he had disappeared into the rubble.

Numb, Brooklyn came first to Goliath. He was howling in a way Brooklyn had never heard before, so tortured and deep in agony that he couldn't get to his feet. Brooklyn put a hand on his shoulder and looked over him to Broadway and Lex; they were holding onto each other, Lexington's shoulders shaking with sobs that were muffled into Broadway's chest, and Broadway was holding onto him but his eyes were distant and quiet.

"You should have killed him," Goliath weeped. His head hung heavy. "Xanatos. You should have killed him."

Brooklyn nodded. He wished he had. "Goliath," he choked, and Goliath shook his head, pulled Brooklyn into his arms and held him there for a long time, crying and shaking.

"Where did that beast go?" Goliath stood up, blinked his damp eyes rapidly and surveyed the long abandoned ruins. "We must find him. He must pay for what he's done. And then Xanatos will answer for his crimes. He will be punished!" He roared, eyes flashing. "I have to get his body, I have to get Hudson out of that damn hole-"

"Goliath, you can't." Brooklyn said, a hand on his leader's arm. It took a moment for Goliath to meet his eyes and when they did they were bloodshot. Raising his good arm, Brooklyn gestured to the sky. Night was melting into day.

Goliath's shoulders fell. "It is happening, Brooklyn," he whispered, eyes still on the sky. "What I saw. The same events under circumstances, more quickly than they were supposed to … this -" Goliath motioned to the rift. "Cannot be a coincidence."

"We have to get the others home. It's not safe here." Brooklyn's throat was tight. He wasn't even sure how the words were getting out.

"But Hudson-"

"Wherever that goes, Goliath, we can't follow." Brooklyn blinked and tears poured down his face. He held onto Goliath tightly. "I'm sorry. We have to go."

Goliath took several long, deep breaths before he hung his head. Gathering the trio, Goliath walked them toward the same building as before, and one by one they climbed and leaped off. Goliath held Brooklyn to his chest as they glided over Manhattan's crushed remains. All of the good that the clan had done in their time there had been for naught; the city was destroyed. So many dead. Was all of their work worth it if it just came to this?

Lexington cried so hard he couldn't keep himself in the air, so Broadway gently pulled him into his arms and carried him the rest of the way. Their moon bond pounded swollen and hard inside of Brooklyn, it ached so profoundly that Brooklyn wasn't sure if it would ever heal. He watched Goliath's tortured profile and knew that Goliath certainly never would.

Bronx met them at the balcony and greeted each of them with excited relief, and then immediate concern. He whined at their feet, sniffing, searching, and the clan just watched in pained silence as he mounted the banister and looked out across the city, waiting for a return that would never come. Goliath broke down again beside the beast, arms wrapped around him, saying nothing but Hudson's name, over and over. Bronx whimpered.

They never made it inside the clocktower. The trio folded in on each other on the balcony beside Goliath and Bronx. Lexington was wrapped in the middle and was about as intelligible as Goliath. Brooklyn and Broadway were silent but for different reasons; Brooklyn could tell that Broadway was hardly present, almost completely detached by the trauma, but Brooklyn was aware of everything, hyperaware. He could feel the temperature steadily rising as the sun began to break over the horizon, the chilled breeze through his hair. Below them was a symphony of sirens and blue and red lights.

Hudson was dead.

Brooklyn heaved. He thought he might be sick. Rushing to the banister, Brooklyn leaned over it, staring down into the street below. He had to close his eyes because his vision spun so badly.

"Guys? Are you there?"

They all heard Elisa's voice in their earpieces. Even Hudson. That comforted Brooklyn, somehow.

When no one answered, Elisa spoke again. "Hello? Are you guys alright? The sun's coming up…"

Sunlight was starting to scorch the island. Brooklyn put a finger to the earpiece and spoke softly. "We're at the clocktower." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Hudson is dead."

He did not hear Elisa's reply because a moment later he was stone.


End file.
